12 Little Campers
by Minako25
Summary: When foul play takes place at Camp Wawanakwa, the campers become desperate to escape the island. However, with murders, misleading clues and cynical teens, no one can be sure if this is just another challenge, or if this is for real. COMPLETE. DxC; TxG
1. Chapter 1

**12 LITTLE CAMPERS - A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND FANFICTION**

PART ONE

**CAMP WAWANAKWA, CANANDA - 1:14 AM**

Inside a dilapidated old cabin, a young girl with long raven hair tossed and turned in her bunk. Her dark eyes fluttered opened and she rose from beneath her covers. A scowl crossed her delicate lips as she slowly descended the rail of her bunk bed. The ice-cold wooden floor stung her feet and she shivered in her pink boy shorts and cream t-shirt. Blindly, she felt around with her toes until she located her sandals. Tiptoeing by crescent moonlight, she snatched up a flashlight near the door before exiting the cabin.

The flashlight clicked on, guiding the girl down the short path towards to communal bathhouse. The faded olive green bathhouse lay hidden in dark shadow, since the single lamp lighting the doorway had burnt out. The drowsy girl was glad she at least had the flashlight to guide her on this cloudy night. Still even with the dim beam to light her way, it didn't prevent her from clumsily stumbling over a large obstruction in her path.

"Damnit!" cursed Heather, the camp's resident snob, as she tumbled face first in the dirt. Sluggishly she sat herself up, brushing off her hands and knees. She reached for the flashlight that rolled away, growling in frustration. The beam of light scanned the ground, searching for what she had stumbled over. The light finally rested upon a shadowy, disfigured lump half on the main path. Heather's eyes widened when she processed what she was before her; she took in a deep breath and screamed.

**

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THE MESS HALL - 1:37 AM

Twelve teenagers gathered in tense silence inside the dining hall of camp Wawanakwa. They'd met here many times before to eat the inedible camp food, or await the challenge of the day, but never for something like this. None of them looked too thrilled to be here so late, the majority of them still in their nightwear. Most of them gathered at their respective tables, while Heather planted herself on the floor alongside two of her teammates who were attempting to console her.

"I still say we're being punked," the camp's green haired delinquent Duncan, pounded his fist into the table. Two of his fellow campers, geeky and shy, Harold, and bossy Métis, Courtney looked weakly at him.

"Yeah, punked. Man, they got us good." Harold forced a laugh, clearly not convinced.

The resident goth girl, Gwen, rubbed her arm absently, her vision focused on the floorboards, "Sure. That was an awful lot of blood though."

"Yeah, but that can be faked…" Duncan pointed out. Harold nodded, explaining in a matter of fact tone, "They use corn syrup and dye in the movies… or strawberry Quik."

"Fake!?" Heather shot up flabbergasted, startling blonde-haired Lindsay and outspoken Leshawna, "When you fall over a dead man's body, you'll know it's not fake!"

"Oh, I'll believe it when I see it!" the punk continued to express his doubts.

"Guys, a brother is dead," the brawny Jamaican native DJ, timidly added between the two bickering teens.

"You wanna check? Be my guest! But believe me, Chris Maclean is…"

The doors to the dinning area abruptly swung open, interrupting their argument. The intimidating form of "Chef" Hatchet wearing his fuzzy, white night robe and slippers, lingered in the doorway. His nostrils flared as his beady eyes surveyed the rustic room, studying each of the startled campers.

"Chris Maclean is dead," he finished the girl's words, than barked, "Now all y'all sit down an' shut up!"

Obediently everyone dropped down on bench or cold floor, allowing the dark skinned man their full attention. Chef carefully scrutinized the lot of them, a million thoughts running through his head. He now had twelve confused, irritable and frightened teenagers; and one dead body on his hand. His mind wandered back to a half hour prior when Heather's screams of horror rang across the entire campsite. Within seconds, everyone leapt from their beds and rushed to the communal washrooms to find Heather sitting alone in the dark, a few feet away from a yet unrevealed mass. The hysterical Asian beauty didn't appear to notice the spectators as she continued to scream her lungs out.

"Yo, what's white girl screamin' for?" Leshawna inquired, attempting to warm herself in her sheer purple chemise against the cool night air. Her tired chocolate eyes were puzzled and disturbed by the sound of her teammate emitted.

"Heather, stop screaming!" Courtney urged, also holding her grey sleepwear tightly to her body. She hesitated stepping towards Heather when Duncan bumped his shoulder to hers. The brunette glared at him, thinking how typical it was for a "delinquent" such as him to show up late to the party. Even more curious was that Duncan arrived fully clothed in his skull adorned black t-shirt and baggy navy shorts. She couldn't be sure, but it didn't even appear he'd come from the direction of the team lodges.

"What n' the hell is all this racket 'bout!" Chef irritably demanded, pushing through the mass of campers. No one provided an answer for the imposing man, and Heather still continued to scream out, her volume unwavering despite how long she'd yelled.

Gwen finally marched forward in her long black nightshirt, stepped over the mass and slapped Heather. The strike resonated; Heather's blood shot eyes flew open and she immediately leapt up to challenge her assailant, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? What about you? What the hell were you screaming for?" Gwen gestured, equally incensed.

"It could be the dead body on the ground," Harold wheezed matter-of-factly.

"Body?" Gwen squeaked, focusing on the form she'd just walked over, "Holy crap!"For the first time, the entire group acknowledged the mass on the unlit path as a human body. The goth and snobby princess scurried to find refuge within the mob of campers. Immediately the twelve teens widened the space between themselves and the bloodied corpse.

The clearly male body was twisted unnaturally; face down in the grass, his injured left arm curled over his backside. The blue shirt he wore was blood splattered and torn, revealing a multitude of stab wounds to his back. Courtney gasped, automatically turning to Duncan, burying her tear stained face into his chest. Bridgette has also burst into tears as she inched closer to Geoff, but she was unable to avert her gaze.

"Great Caesar's Ghost," the portly and enthusiastic Owen breathed, putting a comforting hand on Lindsay and Leshawna's shoulders. Gentle giant DJ turned away completely, using a free hand to cover the jeweled eyes of his pet bunny. In vein, Trent tried to comfort Gwen, but she seemed more fascinated with the cadaver than appalled.

"Good God almighty," breathed Chef, gingerly approaching the corpse, he took its pulse. After feeling no life, his stern face became even grimmer as he discreetly lifted the body's shoulder to discern its identity. His large form obstructed the view for most of the curious campers; but, it wasn't hard to guess the identity of their venerable host, Chris Maclean.

Dropping the body face down into the dirt again, Chef somberly stood and pointed down the path, "Get to the mess hall, the lot o' you! On the double soldiers!"

Without so much as a peep, the twelve campers made a hasty retreat for said mess hall.

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Well, there's the first chapter of my TDI fanfiction. Comments, critiques and even flames are welcome (but I'd prefer constructive comments - or if there's a mistake, I won't be insulted if you point it out). Next chapter coming soon, I'm in the process of re-proofing it and doing some last edits... although edits can be ongoing as I just edited the crap out of this first chapter again...


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

**THE MESS HALL - 1:44 AM**

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Chef Hatchet paced somberly between the Killer Bass and Screaming Gophers' respective tables. The disillusioned collection of campers watched him expectantly. He stopped in front of the stone hearth and began, "Now, with the event of our host's untimely death, some of y'all have come to realize some things…"

"Like… the show is canceled?" Gwen provided with a slight smirk.

"Did I ask for you to speak?" Chef turned around dangerously.

"You never do," Gwen stated, barely phased.

"As I was sayin', number one: the show is over... done… fin. Number two," he extended two fingers for emphasis, "there is a killer on the loose! Chris Maclean was brutally… viciously murdered."

"Way to cool over the crowd," Duncan murmured, his attention drifting to Courtney who sat curled up into a tight little ball, knees pulled up to her chest. She had become withdrawn after they had found the body, catatonically staring forward into nothing.

"Number three: you are my responsibility now. As such, you will not leave this mess hall for any reason other than me coming to get you. Is that understood soldiers?"

Their blank, glassy stares answered the militant chef.

"I said," he repeated more firmly, "is that understood?!"

"Yes sir," the campers chorused.

"Good," his frown deepened as he turned towards the exit, "Now I've gotta go bag me a killa'."

The mess hall shook as Chef slammed the door behind him, bits of ceiling crumbling down onto the camper's heads. Owen cringed, wiping dusty woodchips from his scruffy blonde hair. Duncan slouched even further down onto the bench and grumbled, "Chef has left the building."

Heather sauntered towards the dusty window to watch their would-be supervisor vanish into the darkness. When the Asian was certain that he was gone, she whirled around and announced, "This is bullshit. I am so out of here."

"And just where do you think your going?" Leshawna crossed her arms expectantly.

"Um, off this island, away from the "psycho" killer that did Chris; and most importantly, away from you losers."

"Listen, I don't think that's such a good idea." Gwen offered thoughtfully.

"Oh," Heather placed a finger against her chin in mock contemplation, "Well no one cares what you think."

"Seriously, have you never seen a horror flick in your life? With a murderer on the loose, going off alone is the worst thing you could possibly do. It just stinks of bad idea," she continued to reason, despite her underlying dislike of the pretentious girl.

"Reality check. This is not a movie; this is real life you creepy little reject." Heather threw her arms up for emphasis.

"Hey!" Trent stood between the two women, "You can't talk to Gwen like that!"

"Oh shut it slacker. I can do whatever I want, and what I want is to get the hell off this stupid island. Besides, I'm not going alone… Owen… Lindsay… you're with me."

Lindsay, who had been twisting her hair, started, realizing she had no idea what was going on. Owen twitched, looking around nervously at the others, confused as to how he'd gotten included in this squabble.

"So…" the beautiful blonde's hand shot up for permission to speak while she prattled on, "about this challenge. I mean, I don't think I get it. What's the point exactly?"

"There is no point you twit!" Heather snapped, "There is no challenge. Where have you been this entire time?"

Lindsay's crystal blue eyes struggled for a moment, than she shrugged, "Um, here?"

"You weren't supposed to answer that," Heather scowled, snatching the blonde's arm in her own hand and leading her towards the door, "Now come on! Owen, you too! I need a body guard!"

"Oh, okay," Owen chuckled to himself as if it all made sense suddenly, "I can do body guard."

"Y'know you don't have to go…" Geoff trailed off, seeing the large and loveable Owen was already out the door, "with them."

The normally energetic party boy sighed heavily as he sunk over the table. Harold leaned into his own hands and wheezed pessimistically, "They won't get far."

**

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THE MESS HALL - 2:01 AM

The dusty wall clock clicked past two, another anxiety-filled moment passed for the nine campers. A deafening silence had filled the dining hall since Heather had stormed off. The teens resolved themselves to an awkward staring contest, no one knowing what to say. Trent opened his mouth to attempt a conversation, but one look at brooding Gwen made his voice mute. Geoff adjusted his tan cowboy hat on his head, and Bridgette sighed quit noisily, digging her hands further into her blue hoodie's pockets.

"So I was just wondering," Bridgette's wavering voice broke the hush.

"Yeah Bridge?" Geoff eagerly welcomed the break in silence.

"It's nothing," she lowered her head.

"No, it's cool girl, say what 'ya gotta say," Leshawna encouraged from the Gopher table.

"There's been a homicide. Shouldn't someone contact the authorities?" she said plainly, her olive green eyes surveying the others.

"Well… yeah," Gwen mulled the question over.

"Chef's probably already done that so, there's nothing to worry about," Geoff confidently assured his blond-haired teammate.

Doubtful glances exchanged at the thought that Chef had done anything so levelheaded, and Gwen openly voiced that, "Somehow, I doubt it. Sounded like he was going to handle this one personally."

"He's not that stupid," Bridgette briefly dwelled on her claim, "but he is that crazy."

"So we'll call them," ever down-to-earth Trent declared. Harold's head popped up and he glanced sideways over his shoulder, "Great, I'll just get my cell phone and… oh wait; they took away our phones when we got here. Not like we could get any reception out here. Idiot."

"Well now that we've heard from Lil' Mister Sunshine over there," Leshawna shot the scrawny nerd an icy stare, "let's here some more constructive thoughts. There's gotta be another way to contact the outside world."

"The camera crew?" Geoff offered. Every day, there was a sizable staff present on the island, filming their every move for the show. It would have been a great suggestion if they hadn't become aware right than, of the suspicious absence of the camera crew. In fact, no one could recall seeing any of the production staff since Heather had discovered Chris' body.

"Where is the crew?" Gwen asked.

"They probably took off when Chris kicked the can." Duncan assumed casually.

"Yeah, but I don't remember seeing any of them at the crime scene. How'd they know to get out of here so soon? Seems sort of suspicious to me."

"I knew it!" Duncan stood triumphantly, "We ARE being punked!"

"There's only a 'skeleton' crew after eight o'clock. There are enough automated cameras around to watch us sleep." Harold informed, slouched over the table, "Anyone on the camera crew would have seen the scene long before any of us. They communicate what happened to the rest of the crew, and they all take off. But then again, maybe that's just what I'd do."

Deflated, Duncan dropped back down onto the bench, Harold spinning a likely explanation for the crew's mysterious absence.

"As much as I wish we were being 'punked', that doesn't sound too crazy. Besides that… Harold you're a genius!" Gwen admired.

"I am?"

"The camera footage… it must be fed to a main console. Even if the crew didn't catch it, the automated cameras might have," the goth observed the vacant expression on her peer's faces and quickly corrected herself, "The murder! The murder is on film."

"Great girlfriend, but what about the cell phone?" Leshawna pressed.

"Chris had one, he was on it all the time," shrugged Trent. The teens eagerly welcomed the prospect of using their host's cell phone, until the reality of where and how they would have to acquire it sank in.

"Oh no… no way!" Leshawna waved frantically in disapproval.

"That's a kind of morbid and creepy thought there," Duncan nodded, almost approving. Gwen took a deep breath, "We'd have to get it off his cadaver."

"Unless the killer already took the phone," Harold sighed. Pantomiming rolling up her sleeve, Leshawna stalked over to the skinny red head. Trent and Gwen leapt up to restrain the black woman before she pummeled him into the woodwork, "Boy! If y'all say one more negative thing I'm going knock you into next week."

"Calm down!" Bridgette pleaded, raising her hands up to signal surrender, "This is no time to fight. Listen, we have some good plans going here. Let's just focus… please."

"Fine."

"So, who's going?"

No one volunteered as the group quietly surveyed the available resources. It was evident that it wasn't going to be DJ, who hadn't done much besides pet his bunny. Catatonic Courtney was out of the question too, and no one expected Harold to do much but mope and complain. Those who thought they might be "recruited" tried to make themselves as invisible as possible.

"Fine!" Gwen resolved, standing tall in her knee high black boots, "I'll go!"

"Than I'll go too," Trent stood boldly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. After him, no one seemed willing to volunteer his or her services to the morbid task at hand.

"Hey, you've seen the movies babe. Power of three," Duncan leaned forwards.

"Does that mean you're coming?" Gwen assumed, but the delinquent sunk back into the bench. He glanced sideways at Courtney with obvious concern, "I would but…"

"It's cool," Leshawna joined her fellow Gophers, "Besides, I gotta have my girl's back. Right?"

"Great," Gwen smiled confidently, "We'll go. Cell phone first, than the evidence. I bet there's a monitoring room in Chris' 'secret' cabin… that we all know where it is," she examined the cobweb covered clock, "If we're not back by three…"

"Yeah, we get it," Duncan nodded.

"Good luck," Bridgette waved as the remaining Gopher's exited the mess hall. They watched in anticipation as they left; Bridgette's face especially full of worry. She turned to her fellow Bass and announced shyly, "Um… I really have to pee."

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Made some edits, after seeing some of my own mistakes, and I made it clearer that - yes - Chris is dead... for this story anyway. Anywho, let me know what you think, comments, critiques, flames...


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

**THE GOPHER CABIN - 2:19 AM**

Behind the walls of the Gopher's cabin, Heather could be heard barking orders to her two teammates. The loud commotion peeked following a crash and a bang; and Heather's irate voice cried, "Owen, watch it!"

"Sorry," the large teen apologized pulling an article of clothing off his head.

"Opps," Lindsay added and innocently threw her arms behind her back. She had been trying to close Heather's overstuffed suitcases when it sprung open; letting various belongings fly loose. A pair of panties had landed precariously onto Owen's head, which in turn made him step onto Heather's foot.

The raven hair girl hopped around in her designer pumps, shooting deadly glares at both of her teammates. She was growing increasingly impatient with them, and regretting that she had let them change and gather their own things first. Her two teammates took longer than she'd expected and now she had to rush them along with her own effects.

Rubbing her foot one last time, she straightened up to berate, "You're both completely useless! Now is everything ready?"

"So, I was thinking it's not such a good idea to go off on our own?" Lindsay began, already expecting a backlash from Heather. The Asian looked up from gathering her scattered things and surprisingly smiled kindly, "Lindsay, there's no need to worry your little head while I'm here. Besides, I don't have bad ideas."

The unperceptive blonde smiled in relief, pushing all her doubt aside.

"And," Heather turned her back to her, "if the killer shows up, I'll need a distraction to get away."

"What did you say?" Lindsay's query startled Heather, who quickly denied, "Nothing!"

Heather feigned another bright smile as she clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of Owen as well, "So, if we're all packed, than we'll head over to the Dock of Shame and wait for the boat to pick us up."

"Great plan!" Owen agreed animatedly, "How do we know the boats are coming?"

"They have to be coming, we're on TV; the public already knows what's happened. Someone has to come and rescue me. So let's go people."

Obediently the two campers moved towards the cabin's exit, Owen had the door half opened when Heather interrupted, "Oh wait. Before we leave the island, I'd love to go see Chris' secret cabin. See what kind of stuff he's been hiding from us."

"Me too!" Lindsay agreed cheerfully, "um, why?"

"Lindsay, stop trying… you're just going to hurt yourself."

"No, really… why?" The larger youth remained puzzled about this sudden change in plans, "Shouldn't we just wait for the boats like you said?"

"Oh come on Owen, it'll be worth it. Think about all the great food he must have stashed there," Heather grinned, knowing exactly how to coerce the food enthusiast.

"Mmm, food," Owen's eyes glazed over dreamily, "Let's go!"

**

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THE MESS HALL - 2:20 AM

"And than there were three," Harold mused as he rotated on the bench. Only Duncan, Courtney and Harold remained in the dinning hall, still sitting at on the same bench. "What was that man?" Duncan's steel blue eyes did not waver from the mocha-haired girl as he questioned.

"Nothin'," Harold responded, "Just talkin' to myself."

"Okay," Duncan said indifferently, and leaned in closer to Courtney. She continued to stare vacantly into space, and now he had the time to focus on breaking through her stupor.

"Hey Princess, can I get you anything? A snack? A drink? Wanna lie down? Wanna make out?" he prodded, positive that the last implication would at least get a reaction from her. She never even blinked.

Even Harold turned his attention towards the girl, surprised to see the visible and genuine concern from Duncan. After all the tormenting that the resident tough guy had dished out, Harold never thought he'd see the man's softer side. Well, at least not see it and live to tell about it.

"Talk to me, please Courtney," he brushed her fallen hair behind her ear. She finally blinked, feebly trying to hold back another torrent of tears. Her head slowly tilted to rest on his shoulder and spoke softly, "Chef told us not to leave. Everyone left."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere Princess," Duncan wrapped a strong arm around her and she melted into him.

"But when he comes back, he'll be so mad," her voice dropped to a whisper.

"If he comes back," snorted Harold, receiving a dirty glare from Duncan.

"Pft, let him be mad," Duncan scoffed, "Princess if you wanna stay here, we'll stay here."

Courtney nodded slightly and Duncan was satisfied that he had nudge her out of her depression. He turned his attention to the last Bass member, "What about you four eyes?"

"Me?" Harold was surprised to acknowledged at all, "At a time like this, I figure I'm safest near the criminal."

"Duncan did not murder Chris!" Courtney snapped, suddenly towering over the accusing party. Harold paled, sinking down into the bench with nowhere to run from her wrath. He quickly amending his words, practically pleading with her, "I think it was Chef!"

"But why would Chef murder Chris?" Courtney's demeanor softened.

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Can't argue with that," Duncan grimly joked.

"But does that mean... Chef's looking for the murderer as a cover up?" Courtney deduced. It seemed like a possibility, but before the notion could expand, a second terrified scream echoed across the campgrounds. It was defiantly the sound of a woman screaming, and it sounded rather close by. The trio shot up from their bench and raced for the door to investigate where the scream had come from.

**

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THE COMMUNAL BATHS - 2:20 AM

After Bridgette's complaint about needing to use the bathroom, Geoff and a reluctant DJ quickly escorted the young woman to the communal baths. The building's exterior remained dark and macabre, even though the corpse had been relocated. Each of the teens felt their stomachs drop at the thought of being so close to the murder scene. Unfortunately, for the urban breed trio, it was either: use the bathrooms, or a bush.

Almost timidly, Bridgette stepped into the entrance, glancing back at the boys one last time, "Now, you guys aren't going to ditch me, right?"

"Of course not babe," Geoff assured with two thumbs up.

"Are you sure? Not even if you see the killer."

"Why'd you have to go and say that?" DJ moaned.

"Absolutely, now go do your thing." encouraged Geoff, but her stomach continued to turn in knots. The need to go increased so Bridgette finally resigned to entering the lavatory to "do her thing," as her teammate had put it.

The two young men stood on either side of the washroom entrance, purposefully gazing out into the darkness for any sign of trouble. DJ idly cuddled his grey bunny, while Geoff whistled a merry tune and rocked on his feet. To DJ's surprise, Geoff began to pad away from the bathhouse.

"Where you going?" DJ panicked.

"Man, I gotta wiz too."

"What?" DJ spat, cuddling Bunny a little too tightly, "No way man! I'm not standing out here all by myself."

"Yeah, but bro, someone's gotta be here for Bridgette."

"I know, but can't it wait?" DJ's voice raised an octave in fear.

"I'm just gonna go in the bushes. If anything happens, holler."

"Holler' he says," whimpered the Jamaican as his teammate disappeared behind the brush, "Well at least I've got you Bunny."

The muscular teen brought the rabbit closer to his chest for security as an icy breeze passed by. DJ shivered in his white tank top and drawstring pants, half from the cold night air and half from the dread in the pit of his stomach.

He mumbled under his breath that both his companions needed to hurry up with their "business" and get their butts back here. Another chill passed him by and DJ closed his eyes tightly against the cold. Eyes closed to the danger, the young man failed to notice the presence lurking behind him. More importantly, he didn't see the black gloved hand reaching over his shoulder, and dangling a strip of cloth near his face. A sadistic chuckle filled his ears, followed by a low voice resonating from behind, "Tag. You're it."

The brawny youth's eyes flew open a second too late as a heavy weight leapt onto his back. He let go of Bunny instinctively to defend himself, but surprisingly the rabbit did not flee. DJ attempted a futile holler, but the assailant had already gagged him with the tattered piece of cloth. He struggled vehemently to throw the attacker off his back, or somehow alert his teammates of the danger. Arms secured around his neck in a sleeper hold as DJ stumbled backwards, thrashing about violently. The killer resumed laughing in psychotic delight, as if he was simply riding a bucking bronco. Adrenaline pumping, the muscular teen resolved to not go down, until a loud clang of a heavy metal object reverberated in his skull.

DJ's body crashed onto the ground with a subdued thud. The assailant haphazardly tossed a dented frying pan behind his head, and reached inside his blood covered lime-green lab coat. He smiled down at the teen, the sadistic grin of a clown etched permanently on his masked face. From his lab coat, he revealed an unlabeled black container and the clown bends down to lift the unconscious boy's head off the dirt. Bunny's bright-jeweled eyes watched the murder pry open the container with a knife, unable to tell a soul what he was witnessing. Red liquid splattered across the ground and onto the rabbit's fur, startling the small creature off.

**

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THE COMMUNAL BATHS 2:25 AM

The creaky screen door of the communal bathroom gradually squeaked open. Timidly, Bridgette peeked outside, noting immediately that her male escorts were absent. She opened the wooden door completely, leaning out of the frame to get a better view outside.

The cold air nipped at her and she hugged her arms, glad she had at least put her hoodie on over her thin aqua pajamas. Still unable to locate her teammates, Bridgette anxiously called, "Geoff? DJ? This isn't funny you guys!"

Her sandaled footsteps crunched noisily against the gravel and dried grass underneath. No matter how quietly she tiptoed, her steps were deafening in the absolutely stillness. She crept to the right, cautiously glancing around the corner, "Where are you guys?"

No one answered her and no one was hiding there, so she continued to pace around the building, "I swear, if you two think this is a joke, I'll murder you. Please, let it be a joke."

Rounding another corner, Bridgette finally spotted a familiar if not fuzzy face, hopping alongside the base of the bathhouse. She breathed a sigh of relief as she trailed after the fluffy baby rabbit calling his name. Turning around the final corner of the building, Bridgette's heart skipped when she saw that she really was alone. Her heart beat erratically as she scooped Bunny up, noticing for the first time the discoloration on his grey coat. The dark, sticky fluid rubbed off into her palm and she turned her hand gingerly to identify the substance. Blood, her brain warned her as she began to shiver uncontrollably and shrieked in revulsion.

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Hope you enjoyed Chapter Three. Seems like few of you are enjoying this fic, and that makes me happy. More to come soon...


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

**THE COMMUNAL BATHS - 2:27 AM**

Hastily Bridgette fled the bathhouse as if hell's dogs were chomping at her feet. In her arms she still hugged on tightly to bunny. At the same moment the doors to the mess hall crashed open, her peers racing to meet her. The panic-stricken blonde stopped short of the trio, rattling incoherently about the killer and her teammates.

"Bridgette what happened?" Duncan urged, holding her shoulders.

"DJ! Geoff! Oh my god," she sobbed, indicating wildly with her free hand, "Blood! Left alone! Bunny!"

"Whoa, whoa, where are DJ and Geoff?" he attempted again, unable to make sense of incoherent ranting.

"Dead!" she wailed, clutching the bloody soaked rabbit even tighter to her bosom.

"What do you mean dead? How?"

"Bunny!" she screeched, holding the tiny rabbit at arms length for all to see. They were horrified to see its blood stained fur. Even more unsettling was the absence of his owner DJ, who never let the small creature out of his sights. With the rabbit and blood as evidence, the teens immediately assumed the worst.

"Hey bros! What happened?" unexpectedly, Geoff's voice hollered across the path. The blond cowboy hurried towards his teammates, only to be greeted by their confused stares. Bridgette hiccupped through her tears, almost too afraid to turn around to see that he wasn't dead. Whirling around on her heels, her heart skipped another beat and her eyes lit up with anticipation.

"Bridge, what happened?" Geoff asked, evidently surprised by her watering green eyes.

"What happened?" she shrieked, her despair changed to fury, "You left me all alone!"

The happy go lucky Geoff instantly regretted asking her anything as she stomped towards him. Her eyes narrowed in anger as he threw his arms up in surrender; she kicked him in the shin regardless.

"But DJ… OW," Geoff clumsily hopped around, seizing his injured leg, "he was gonna wait for you. DJ wouldn't bail."

"Oh but you would?"

"I wasn't trying to babe."

"Okay enough with this! Geoff you bailed, end of story. Where is DJ?" Duncan testily interrupted, gesturing promptly in the direction of the bathhouse.

"I don't know," Bridgette frowned, her sorrow returning.

"Me neither," Geoff still nursed his injury.

The green haired punk snarled as he stormed away, shouting out DJ's name. Courtney and Geoff joined in the search, each calling out their lost companions name repeatedly. They hurriedly searched the perimeter of the bathhouse and both cabins. Courtney even went inside both sides of team cabins, just in case. Unfortunately, with no answer to their cries, it was clear that DJ was gone.

"You know what, that's fucking great! Let's just get picked off one by one," Duncan shouted in exasperation as they all regrouped at the center of the campsite.

"So, we're not being punked anymore?" Harold idly wondered. He jumped when he caught Duncan eyeing him heatedly, like a rabid wolf stalking its prey. The scrawny nerd ducked quickly behind Courtney, but she gracefully sidestepped, not about to get caught in the middle of their squabble.

"Duncan!" Courtney pleaded gently before he was able to snatch a hold of Harold's orange pajamas, "Let's go find Gwen and everyone else."

"Yeah, whatever," Duncan sighed, allowing the red head to slip out of his reach. The brunette took a hold of his hand as they trailed away from the campsite to locate the Gopher team. The others quickly followed their lead, though Harold brought up the rear just to be safe.

**

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**

CHRIS'S CABIN - 2:38 AM

Deep within the thick forest of Wawanakwa, Heather, Lindsay and Owen had arrived at Chris' luxurious cabin. The front door was unlocked and Heather promptly welcomed herself into the residence. It was pitch black and eerily quiet in the hidden cabin. Only Lindsay and Owen seemed to have that foreboding feeling that they should not trespass here.

With a quick flick of her finger, Heather flipped the light switch on and stood proudly in the doorway of the main room. The interior was lavishly decorated, from a bear skinned rug on the floor to the wide screen LCD TV on the wall.

"So what are we looking for anyway?" Lindsay softly questioned, hugging onto her bunkmate's arm.

"Anything useful," Heather shrugged her tense teammate away, "Owen, find us some snacks in the kitchen… and no beans! Lindsay, you're with me."

"Alright," Owen cheered, his anxiety forgotten as he greedily hopped off to the kitchen. Entering an archway to the left, he breathed in the scene of a lovely, clean and well-stocked kitchen. Of course, this was Chris' cabin so while the campers ate slop and gruel, Chris would be dining heartily on rich cuisine. Owen strolled over to the clean white refrigerator and carefully opened the door.

"Jackpot!" he crowed. Immediately he piled various groceries into his arms and greedily stuffed a slice of cheesecake into his mouth, chuckling merrily to himself. Turning, he spotted a bottle of fine wine and a full tumbler full resting on a marbled kitchen island counter. He studied the glass with some curiosity, before he quickly scanned the room to see if anyone was watching him. With only a moment of reservation, Owen shot back the ruby liquid in one gulp. Instantaneously the teens cheeks turned rosy, his eyes watered and he started to cough and gag. Owen breathed a deep, wheezing breath before gently setting the tumbler down, "That's not right."

Recovered from the putrid beverage, his sights set on the opened walk-in pantry, already spotting a wealth of snacks, drinks and canned foods within. Owen lingered at the entrance, discovering that the frame of the store room was not very wide. He measured his own girth to the entrance, shrugged and still found a way to squeeze his robust weight into the narrow closet. Taking a basket off the top shelf, he started loading various delectables into the wicker container.

"This is so sweet," he delighted as he popped open a soda pop. Just as the lid snapped open, the entire cabin went black. Confused, Owen wondered if he'd somehow caused the power outage when opening the pop. Abruptly the pantry door slammed closed behind him, and his eyes widened in surprise, "Great Moosehead!"

Owen immediately regretted squeezing himself into the tiny pantry, realizing now in the dark that he had no room to move. The portly teen sucked his breath in as he tried to turn, his elbows and gut knocking various cans and boxes off the shelves. He gritted his teeth, blindly fumbling to locate the door handle behind him. Straining so much, the teen blushed and giggled as he let out a low and long fart, "Sorry."

"Oh no!" Heather's panicked warning pierced the darkness. The scream that followed made Owen's blood run cold, "Lindsay watch out!"

"Oh crap!" he panicked, fearing for the safety of the girls. Two more shrill screams echoed through small cabin and Owen dropped his basket, allowing himself to spin around fully and seize the door handle.

"I'm coming girls!" He roared, praying they'd hear him. Twisting feverishly at the handle, the Canadian paled when the knob screeched loudly and pulled straight off into his hand. He drew the knob to his eyelevel, even though he couldn't see it in the blackened closet, "Damnit! You've got to be kidding me!"

With the full power of his weight Owen slammed into the door, the frame rattling noisily against his force. Again and again he shoved against the door until finally the frame jarred and the door swung open. Free, Owen hurriedly searched the room, the only light provided from the night sky outside. He dashed towards the moonlit counter, remembering he'd seen some other items on its surface. Stumbling into to the surface, Owen reached out blindly, fingering a firm and long item wrapped in plastic. It was too soft in his hands and he determines it must be a loaf of bread.

"Crap! No good!" the loaf flew behind his head, and he felt the counter again, finding a wooden cutting board and knife. Owen hastily pushed the knife aside and snatched up the board, bearing it like a club as he hurried to save the girls.

Stumbling into a dark hallway, he cautiously entered what appeared to be the bedroom. Scanning the room by silvery moonlight, he saw that a struggle had taken place. The bed lay in shambles, the pillows and sheets on the floor. He saw what looked like a broken vase and other personal items strewn about, but there was no sign of his teammates.

"Lindsay, Heather, where are you girls?" he called in a hushed voice. Owen held his breath, listening closely for any response, but no one answered. Hastily he turned to try another room, bumping into the door frame on his way out, "Crap!"

Guardedly he crept his way back to the main room, the cabin's front door swinging wide open. The overweight young man hoped that maybe the girls had escaped the house and quietly steps towards the exit. Nearly out the door, the sound of a soft trembling echoed caught his attention and he looked down towards the source. Hiding behind a cream colored living chair was Heather, huddled over and shaking like a leaf. She looked sick with fear, her hair falling over her face, and dark streaks of blood on her arm.

"Heather?" Owen spoke gently, trying not to reveal his own fear, "It's okay now."

He offered a large hand to help her up from her hiding place, startling her slightly. Weakly she looked up, her eyes dark and wide, and her pale face dotted with blood. Owen tenderly smiled, reaching down further to coax the reluctant girl out. Heather moved away, shaking her head. Her expression creasing in horror as a soft chuckle resonated from behind them.

Owen straightened, they weren't along in the darkened cabin. He turned gradually to face the clown masked figure lingering behind him. Heather shot up to guard herself with Owen's mass, both their hearts racing faster. Owen felt like his heart would crawl up his throat, the pressure built and he couldn't stop a belch from escaping. Unexpectedly, his big brown eyes crossed and his large body crashed face first into the floor.

The room shook from the impact, and for a moment Heather and the clown killer exchanged bewildered looks. The murderer hadn't even touched him, yet he toppled over for no reason at all. Regardless, the clown shrugged than revealed an electric carving knife from behind his back. His maniacal laughs filled the room along with Heather's screams as she ran for the hills.

**

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**

THE INFIRMARY - 2:49 AM

Across camp the echoing screams reached the tattered off green tent that acted as the infirmary. Just outside the tent, Gwen, Trent and Leshawna gasped, the horrified sounds freezing them in place. It was likely that the entire island and most of Muskoka heard the terrified cries.

"That sounded like Heather," the scream sent shivers down Trent's spine.

"Good, maybe the killer got her," Gwen hoped.

"Gwen!"

"Gee, I was just thinking the same thing," Leshawna smirked with her teammate as she pulled back the flap of the tent. The Goth's smile soon faded as she entered the dark infirmary, their three flashlights providing the only visibility. Focused on their morbid task, the three campers scanned over the few degraded cots and the table stocked with various medical supplies. At the end of the tent, one cot was covered in a blood soiled white sheet. The sheet bulged up into a human like shape, and it was clear to the trio that under the sheet was Chris Maclean's body.

"There," Gwen shined her light over the lumpy form. The teens treaded softly towards the back of the tent, each trying not to be the first to the cot. They loomed over bloody sheet for what seemed an eternity, no one making a move or speaking a word. Leshawana began to shake nervously, twisting her hands together and chewing her lip. Gwen and Trent gulped for air, eyeing each other for assurance.

"Okay. Let's just get this over with," Gwen asserted, reaching a pale hand towards the sheet. She started as Trent took hold of her free hand and squeezed it tightly, "We'll do it together."

The melancholic girl's heart warmed at the musician's sweet gesture and nodded confidently. Both teens took hold of the sheets edge and in one swift motion, pulled it back. Leshawna cringed expectantly, unprepared to gaze upon the horror's that lie beneath the sheet.

"The hell!" the boisterous black woman exclaimed.

"Where's Chris?" Gwen squeaked. Under the bloody sheet was nothing more than more dirty sheets bundled together. Each of them shared a bewildered look, and Trent shook his finger in thought.

"This is bad, right?" Trent questioned, scratching the back of his head.

"Duncan was right!" Gwen confirmed clenching her fists, "We are so being set up!"

* * *

A/N: I have a busy week coming up, so don't fret if the chapter 5 isn't up until next weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

**OUTSIDE THE INFIRMARY - 2:49 AM**

On the path to the infirmary, the bloodcurdling screams of Heather reached the ears of the five Bass team members. Wildlife from every corner of the forest took refuge as the terrible sound echoed across the island. The small group froze in their tracks, searching for the source of the scream. Courtney latched on tighter to Duncan's strong arm, shutting her eyes to guard herself from the horrible night her.

"Not again," Duncan grumbled, his eyes narrowing.

"Was that Heather… again?" Bridgette inquired, holding tightly onto Geoff's hand. Harold, who was holding onto Bunny, tilted his head up to listen, than nodded boldly, "She's dead."

"That's not funny Harold!" Courtney cried, scowling at the thin geek.

"Wasn't trying to be," he retorted plainly.

"Screw Heather," Duncan interrupted, "We need to find a phone first. Got it?"

Everyone timorously agreed with Duncan as continued to stomp down the path. The infirmary was only a short distance away, but the sullen and tired campers dragged in comparison to their leader's zealous pace. Rounding a patch of evergreens, the delinquent called back to his team, "There's the tent! Hurry, the Gophers' might still be there!"

Spirits briefly renewed, the Bass hurried to enter the green canvas tent. Inside the tent however, the teens met with disappointment at finding the infirmary vacant. None of them could have guessed they'd just missed Gwen and her companions heading back for the lodges moments earlier. A low growl escaped Duncan's throat and he gestured his thumb back towards the forest, "They must be after the video."

"Couldn't we just wait for them?" Geoff suggested, receiving a dark scowl from Duncan.

"I ain't waiting no more. They're probably at Chris' cabin now."

Once more, the young punk stormed off ahead of the group, but this time they followed him more closely. Everyone but Harold, who remained to scrutinize the infirmary's interior. He focused on the rows of empty canvas cots, and the one of the end piled in dirty sheets. Deep in thought, he let out a heavy but thoughtful sigh before backing out of the tent to catch up with his peers.

**

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**

THE GOPHER CABIN - 3:01 AM

The moment after her revelation that the teens were being hoaxed, Gwen announced that she was, "going back to bed." The goth made good on her word as she stormed off into the forest just to shorten her trek to the campgrounds. If they had waited just a minute longer, they would have met up with the Bass team, but she was too irate to wait for anything.

All pleas for Gwen to slow down or to consider alternatives went unspoken. When the trio reached the cabins, the raven and blue haired girl made quick work of throwing her boots off and leaping into her bunk. In one motion, she yanked the covers over her head, leaving her two teammates to watch her astounded.

"We're going to go talk to the other team," Leshawna motioned for Trent to follow her out of the cabin. Once the creaky cabin door slammed shut, Gwen peeked out from beneath her sheets, satisfied they were gone. Several minutes passed as Gwen tried to relax and fall asleep. She just about felt she might find rest when the cabin door swung open with a loud bang. Her pale fingers held onto the blanket even tighter over her head.

"The other team's gone," Leshawna announced, in a voice not meant to be ignored. Still, the lumpy mass of covered didn't bother to indulge her teammates with a reply. The determined black girl crossed her arms impatiently, "As much as I'd like to go back to bed too, don't you think we should at least find out where they went off to?"

"Don't care," Gwen mumbled, dragging a pillow over her head.

"Gwen, they might be in serious trouble," Trent gently urged.

"Not falling for it, this is nothing more than a B-movie rip off," Gwen's muffled voice exclaimed.

"But even Heather said he was dead," Trent patiently reminded.

"Heather wouldn't know the difference between dead and living if it bit her on the ass!"

Abruptly, the cover was seized off Gwen's curled up form and she sprung up to see Leshawna balling up the sheet in her arms. Both women had a look of deadly resolve plastered on their faces.

"Give it!" Gwen reached out to snatch her sheet back, but Leshawna just sidestepped out of her reach.

"Girl, even if we are being played, we need to see this through. I ain't gonna forfeit this challenge just because you don't wanna get outta bed."

"Fine," Gwen slouched over, dangling her arms from the bed's rail, "We'll go find the Bass team. But we don't even know what the point of this challenge is… besides seeing how gullible we are."

Sluggishly she crawled down from her bunk and snatched up her heavy black boots. Again, the trio headed out into the cold night to search for their fellow campers.

**

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**

CHRIS' CABIN - 3:21 AM

It was fortuitous for the Bass team that their would-be-leader Duncan had snuck off to their host's hideaway previously to vandalize the premises. Through the dark forest of Wawanakwa, he was able to expertly lead his four teammates to the hidden cabin. The cabin was quite eerie in the shadow of night, no lights shown around the structure expect for the starlight above. The front door swung freely in the breeze, squealing like ambient music as it opened and closed.

"I don't think the Gopher's are here," Bridgette observed. She and Courtney clung tightly to each other while boys scaled the short stairway.

"Probably not," Duncan entered first, blindly feeling the wall for the light switch. After a moment of searching, he turned back to the others sullenly, "Figures. The power's dead."

"It's probably a blown fuse," Harold offered, leaning over the rail to peek around the side of the lodging. His green tinted glasses quickly located an electrical box at the far end of the cabin. Harold swung over the rail to reach the electrical box first. He promptly experimented with each switch, a dull hum notified them he'd found the correct fuse. The flickering yellow glow from the cabin was almost blinding to the Bass team, who had been stumbling around in the dark for so long.

"Duncan, the Gophers aren't here. Why are we wasting our time?" Courtney called to the green haired punk who had disappeared into the dwelling. He stuck his head back out the door as Geoff entered next, "I want to check it out anyway. Maybe the Gopher's haven't gotten here yet. The video of the murder might still be here… and other 'useful' stuff."

"Useful stuff?" Courtney repeated, releasing her friend's arm, "I get it. You just want to go in there and steal from a dead man."

"So?" Duncan shrugged as Harold slithered past him to enter too, "It's not like he'll miss anything."

"You're a pig!"

"Sticks n' stones, Princess." he grinned smugly as he disappeared back into the cabin, leaving the two girls out in the cold. With little choice left, Courtney stormed up the stairs with Bridgette on her heels.

Inside, the five teens stood shocked amidst the ruin of the cabin. It was clear that something violent had happened prior to their arrival. A cream-colored living chair lay next to the entrance, the stuffing spilling out of a huge gash in the back. Dirt from a knocked over plant dotted the floor along with pieces of glass, pottery and torn pieces of magazines and paper. The most telling sign of violence was the spots of crimson red trailing across the floor.

"Looks like we missed one hell of a party," Geoff whistled at the mess.

"Somehow, I think we wanted to miss this little party," Courtney sidestepped the fallen chair to join Duncan again.

Wordlessly, Harold moved towards the archway leading to the kitchen. Like the front room, it appeared as though some struggle had taken place; a loaf of bread, snacks and canned goods littered the floor. He looked to the open pantry, observing the broken doorframe and the halves of a bronze doorknob on the floor. The asthmatic teen stepped around the kitchen island, spotting a butcher wedged into the tile floor.

The others joined behind him as he pried the knife out of the white tiles. Bridgette started at the sight of the blade, but Harold just shrugged, "I'd rather be safe than sorry, duh."

"Man has a point," Duncan approved, breaking out his own switchblade knife. Geoff hastily searched the room for a weapon too, finally spotting a mop against a nearby wall. He unscrewed the handle from the mop head, manufacturing a makeshift staff. Lastly, Courtney reached for a stick flashlight atop the refrigerator. It certainly wasn't a weapon, but on this bleak night, it was defiantly useful.

The Bass team continued to search the house, entering Chris's bedroom next. Sadly, it yielded nothing more than the signs of a struggle like the other rooms. Silently Harold indicated the floor, the trail of blood they'd seen earlier curving into a closed door. Duncan knelt down for a closer look, while Harold hazarded a guess in a low voice, "Either the killer is hiding in there… or that's the bathroom."

Standing, the punk swatted away the geek and signaled for his other teammates to back away. Pressing himself tightly to the wall, Duncan carefully reached for the doorknob. Everyone gasped when he forcefully pushed the door open and leapt in shouting a fierce battle cry. The teens held their breath in anticipation, but Duncan just remained in the doorway, oddly pensive. The others gathered behind him to see what had left their toughest team member so speechless.

"Geez," Harold's eyes widened before he blacked out. Within the room was the monitoring equipment the camper's had suspected was in this cabin. On the wall was a collection of TV screens, all but one white with snow and buzzing static. The control panel below had been violently smashed and ribbons of film lay spread across it. More startling than the mess was the second body of the night, bloodied and broken underneath a leather roll-around-chair. The chair covered the man's face, but his dark, muscular and tattooed body was instantly familiar. The one TV that still functioned looped the few seconds of footage of what had transpired here before they had arrived. A clown-masked man entered the room, an axe at his side, startling the occupant seated at the console. The man was Chef and he sprung out of his chair to face the intruder, clearly alarmed. That was all the footage provided them, as it looped back to the moment of the killers entry. Chef now lay dead on the floor, the same axe carried by the clown protruding from his chest.

"Guess the murderer wasn't Chef," Duncan seemed harshly detached as he spoke. Courtney burst into tears at that instant, while Bridgette fled cabin covering her face. Geoff was quick to chase after the blonde calling her name out as he ran down the steps. Broodingly, Duncan closed the door leading Courtney back down the hall. There wasn't much more any of them needed to see of the murderer's handy work.

_

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_

A/N: As promised, chapter 5 by Saturday at the latest. Working on Chapter 6 now too, but I probably won't get it done before I have to run off to work. Quite the pickle the campers have themselves in, eh? Are the Gophers right, is this all an elaborate hoax to freak the TDI crew out? Or is it real, as the Bass team would conclude with Chef added to the body count? And who is that masked clown? Guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out.

Oh, and go check out my TDI artwork at minako25... you shant be disapointed


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Holy hades! Thanks for all the great reviews and watches on my story! I'm really glad you're all enjoying this story. So here's chapter 6. This Chapter has been quite a headache for me, because it never felt right. Everytime I re-read it, I made more changes to it. I'm at the point now where I don't wanna look at it, because I can't change it anymore. _

_And fair warning - this one is violent and heart stopping._

_Oh, and Dear Annonymus... I can't reply to your comments unless you have a log in. Sorry. Don't kill me._

* * *

PART SIX

**OUTSIDE CHRIS' CABIN 3:34 AM**

For the first time, the two female Bass members realized how cold it was outside in just their PJs. They huddled together on the porch steps, watching over Harold who had not come to since seeing Chef Hatchet's bloody corpse. Surprisingly, Bunny had stayed with him the entire time, curled up on his grooming his grey coat. The girls only wished that they could be at that kind of ease tonight.

Bridgette anxiously scanned the distance with the flashlight, shaking as she moved the beam left to right. Courtney wasn't much better off, holding onto the butcher knife so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Both were so focused straight ahead, that they squealed in surprise when the boys came noisily plodding down the steps behind them.

"Sorry," apologized Bridgette as she tried to compose herself. Their companions thought nothing of it as they took a seat on either side of the girls.

"Find a phone?" Courtney inquired.

"That would be too easy," dejected, Duncan dug into his left pocket, pulling out some cash and a watch he'd pilfered while inside.

"You are such a pig," Courtney scolded.

"That's why I bring home the bacon," Duncan grinned mischievously, reaching into his other pocket. The girls gasped as he revealed a map, more specifically a map of the island. The four gathered around as he indicated the northern shoreline circled in red, "It's a second dock on the north shore of the island. I've never seen it on any other map, but I'm willing to bet, that's where the 'Boat of Losers' is stashed when it's not hauling one of our asses off. That's our ticket out of here."

There was a moment of silence while Duncan beamed arrogantly at his discovery. Courtney abruptly flung her arms around him in joy and cried, "Duncan, you're awesome!"

"I know," he chuckled, pounding fists with Geoff's in approval.

* * *

ELSEWHERE IN THE FOREST 3:26 AM

Flashlights in hand, the three Gophers gradually made their way through the dark forest towards Chris' cabin. There wasn't any rush according to Gwen, who remained firmly skeptic of the whole murder fiasco. They had also expended some time searching the campgrounds and infirmary one last time for the opposing team.

Gwen led forest trek, even though she was dragging her feet and yawning every few minutes. Trent had to quicken his pace just to keep up, and Leshawna was at the rear, frantically searching the darkness with her flashlight. Despite Gwen's resolve that this was nothing more than an idiotic challenge, she and Trent remained unsure.

"So," Trent began, attempting to coax the Goth from her drowsy lull, "you seem to know a lot about scary movies."

"Yeah," she brightened a little, "I love horror movies, even the bad ones."

"So, you really think this challenge is all staged to be like a horror movie?"

"Absolutely." she confidently answered.

"Okay," the musician appeared persuaded, "So, what do we need to know to survive this challenge than?"

"That's easy," she beamed, "I'm like an encyclopedia on the do's and don'ts of slasher flicks. Like, you should never go off alone; in fact try to stay in groups if you can. Don't agree to pair up, especially if it's guy/girl, because that's just a recipe for being slashed. Never go off into the forest at night, and don't go into the forest to make out. Don't follow the strange voice whispering your name because curiosity will kill you…"

As Gwen and Trent became engrossed in their own conversation, Leshawna's attention became gripped by the shadows and whispers of the forest. The pair had practically forgotten about her and it went unnoticed when she stopped dead in her tracks. The sound of deep but soft laughter filled Leshawna's ears, beckoning the young woman.

"Y'all hear that?" she inquired, but neither of her companions heard her, their voices fading as they continued ahead. The outgoing girl shook her head at her obvious paranoia, deciding, "I'm just hearing things."

Barely taking another step forward, Leshawna shivered as the forest began to chant her name again in echoing whispers. Her eyes widened in fright and she quickly scanned the trees for the source of the voice.

"I know I heard it that time," she insisted squinting into the blurry darkness around her. Leshawna cursed her poor eyesight for the hundredth time since arriving at Wawanakwa, the darkness only adding to her inability to see distances. The flashlight's beam finally reflected off the pale slender arm of someone sitting behind a nearby tree. Even though she couldn't see them clearly, she knew it was a person and curiosity got the better of her.

Precariously, Leshawna tiptoed towards the individual whose long strands of black hair fell loosely over her shoulder. Only a couple of meters away, the African-Canadian now had no doubt who was behind the tree, but she still inquired aloud, "Heather?"

Heather didn't answer back, nor did she move a muscle. Leshawna's flashlight scanned the earth around the slender girl, shining on a knife near her fingertips and the streaks of blood crusted on her arm.

"Oh snap," Leshawna breathed, letting the flashlight roll from her grasp. The instinct to flee filled her body, but she could only stumble back slowly. Abruptly, her backside encountered something firm and unyielding, but it didn't feel like a tree. Leshawna had no voice to scream as she glanced behind her.

**

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**

THE FOREST 3:36 AM

"If your trying to outrun the killer, expect to trip and fall at least twice, you're never going to outrun him no matter how far he trails behind you. Don't try to be the hero, your sacrifice will mean jack squat in the end. Oh, and stick with the weird Goth girl, she'll be the one most likely to survive," Gwen gladly continued to spout off her wealth of horror film knowledge. Trent was hanging onto her every word, but in reality, he was just contented to listen to the sound of her voice.

"I'll remember that one," he smiled warmly. She returned the smile for a brief moment before she looked as though something painful had struck her. Whirling around, she saw the absence of their third party member and blurted, "Damnit! Where'd Leshawna go?"

"She was just... there?"

"She couldn't have gotten that far," Gwen presumed, hurrying back the way they came. Both teens called out to their missing teammate, their voices echoing against the thick forest. They weren't sure when they'd became separated, but they knew it was because they were off in their own little world. Gwen started to panic as she used the tree trunks to propel herself faster through the dense patches of trees. Even though she didn't believe there was a killer on the loose, something about being lost and alone in the forest was primitively terrifying.

Abruptly, Trent came to a halt, calling for Gwen's attention. She double backed to where he stood, her vision following the beam from his flashlight. Under a shrub lay an arm that undoubtedly belonged to Leshawna. Feelings of overwhelming guilt washed over Gwen at seeing her teammate on the ground like that.

"Leshawna," Gwen started but Trent held her back, aware of something else behind the bushes. The pale goth's attention snapped from him to a green-coated figure rising up from behind the shrubbery. Flashlights focused on a clown-masked man as he scoped up Leshawna's arm, and only her arm. Sadistically he waved the disembodied hand at the two Gophers than revealed the blood soaked carving knife in his other hand.

Both teens screamed at the sight of the grotesque appendage displayed before them. The murderer stepped out from behind the bushes, the motor of his carving knife roaring out.

His laughter filled the night air once again as the two campers desperately turned tail to escape.

Amidst the chaos, no one noticed slender pale fingers reaching across the damp earth towards the fallen knife. The bloodied hand tightly gripped the blade and drew it up to their side. Unsteadily, Heather pushed herself to stand against the tree, her hair spilling all around her face. Through the mess of raven tresses, her lips curled into a smile.

**

* * *

**

CHRIS' CABIN 3:36 AM

"What'd I miss?" Harold sprung upright from his spot on the cold, hard earth. He glanced over to see his teammates huddled together in intense discussion. The geek was relieved to reach down to find Bunny grooming himself atop his chest. Gathering the grey fuzz ball up, he made his way to rejoin the group.

"Evening sleeping beauty," Duncan sarcastically welcomed.

The redhead immediately observed the map marked in red at the center of their meeting. He leaned forward to study it, seeing the shore circled, with "Boat of Losers" and a question mark written next to the location. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he had missed as he continued to massage the rabbit. Bunny continued to groom himself fixedly, picking repeatedly at the offensive red liquid mixed in his fur.

"It wasn't chef and it can't be any of us," Bridgette resumed past Harold's interruption. They'd been trying to deduce the murder's identity while waiting for him to come around. "We were all in the cabin at the time," the blonde considered the nights events.

"Duncan wasn't," Harold didn't miss a beat, "He was the last one to the scene."

"Harold, would you stop trying to blame Duncan!" Courtney snapped.

"It's a legit accusation Princess. I was the last to the party," the brunette deflated, stunned that Duncan would so readily admit that he could be a suspect. The juvenile couldn't deny facts, just as much as he couldn't deny his criminal record.

"But Duncan didn't murder Chef," Bridgette pointed out, "He was with us."

"Yeah," Courtney avidly agreed, "Duncan hasn't left my side since we found… well you know."

"It's probably Heather, she was the one who 'found' the body," Duncan offered his main suspect into the mix, but Bridgette was ready to defend her too, "No way, Heather might be mean, but she's no killer. Could she even take on a guy like Chris or Chef? It's none of us, that clown is someone else."

"As riveting as this game of detective is," Duncan stood, stretching out, "I move, that we get our asses out of here."

"But the Gophers," Bridgette pleaded, even though she knew what Duncan would say.

"If we run into them, than they can come," the delinquent shoved his hands into his pockets, "But I'm not waiting anymore."

"I'm still not down with leaving a man behind," Geoff stood too, shaking his head. The girls remained seated, also unsure about any plan to save themselves and leave the others. They had no idea where any of the Gopher team members or DJ was anymore. Worst of all, they had no idea if the other campers were even alive or how long it would be before they confronted the killer.

Meanwhile, Harold had lost focus on their exchange and instead methodically studied his hand, experimentally extending his fingers apart. He gently set Bunny down beside him, speaking mostly to himself, "This rabbit's fur is really sticky."

"That's because blood is sticky," Courtney sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I know that, gosh!" the teen turned his back to the girls as he continued to study the dried red liquid. Sure blood was sticky, but it had been drying on Bunny's fur for quite sometime now. Harold cautiously sniffed dried red substance on his fingertips, than murmured triumphantly, "Boo-yah."

"What?"

"Nothing," Harold denied, frowning deeply at the bossy C.I.T.

"You are so weird Harold," scoffed Courtney, standing to get away from him.

"Yeah, so?" Harold instantly confronted the girl, unaware that Bunny had started to hop away.

"Ugh, never mind. Stop being so defensive."

"Whatever, I am not defensive." Harold crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing through green tinted spectacles.

"Children," Duncan scolded, "Don't make me come back there to break you up."

"She started it!" Duncan whined.

"And I'm gonna finish it."

"You always take her side."

"Well yeah," Duncan pulled Courtney to his side, while she tried her best to look annoyed, "She she's a hot babe, and your a dweeb."

"Whatever," Harold sighed, searching the ground for DJ's pet rabbit, "Um, where'd the rabbit go?"

The girls looked down, searching the ground for any sign of the fluffy, grey critter. Geoff keenly pointed to the side of the cabin, spotting Bunny hopping towards the back, "There's the furry dude! I'll get him."

"Forget the stupid rabbit," Duncan moaned but the cowboy had already given chase. Frustrated by another delay, the delinquent grumbled incoherently and flopped back down onto the steps of the cabin. Bridgette moved across the deck to watch her teammate jog after the quick-footed creature. Geoff clumsily tried to snatch the rabbit to no avail and pursued it past the cabin and towards the forest. She looked back to her team gathered on the porch steps and approached to voice her concern, "Maybe we should go help him."

"Listen, if he wants to be all sentimental about the rabbit…" Duncan received a sharp elbow from Courtney, silencing his complaint.

"I just don't want him to be alone," Bridgette expressed and reluctantly Duncan stood to join the rabbit hunt. Rounding the cabin corner, they saw no sign of their jovial blonde teammate. Bridgette grew increasingly nervous as they reached the back of the cabin and there was still no sign of him.

"Geoff! Where are you?" Duncan hollered into the endless tree line surrounding them.

* * *

_a/n: Do you think Gwen's a believer now? Will the "weird goth girl" and Trent escape the clown masked killer? Will the Bass team make it to the Boat of Losers and swim out of this story safely? What fate has befallen Bunny… I mean Geoff? And what of Heather, what is she up to? Stay tuned to find out._


	7. Chapter 7

PART SEVEN

**OUTSIDE CHRIS' CABIN 3:56 AM**

"Geoff," the named echoed endlessly against the wall of trees, "Where are you?"

A single light scanned the outskirt of the forest for any sign of the familiar tan cowboy hat worn by their missing comrade. The group stayed relatively close together in their exploration, not wanting to chance a second disappearance.

"Geoff! Come back!" Bridgette cupped her mouth to boost her volume.

"Get your ass back here now!" Duncan abrasively joined.

"You don't suppose?" Bridgette fretted, taking hold of Courtney's arm for support. The brunette answered with the fear and concern pooled in her own brown eyes. She quickly averted her gaze, resolving herself to stay focused on scanning the landscape. The sound of movement caught her attention and her flashlight was instantly spotlighting the source. A lone figure arose from the forest cover, hunched over so that only the familiar hat was visible. It was enough for Courtney to cry hastily towards him, "There he is!"

Oddly, their fun loving companion made no response to her call. He stood their stoically staring down at the earth, just lurking at the woods edge. Even so, Bridgette unhesitatingly shortened the distance between them. Her vigorous walk slowed as she expressed her relief, "Geoff, we thought we'd lost you."

Again, he said nothing, fixated on the ground. The overwhelming relief that the blond girl felt began to dissolve, her instincts screaming that something was amiss. Her voice quivered as she repeated his name once more. This time he answered in a low chuckle that resonated deep within his chest. The man raised his head up high to reveal that he was never Geoff. All color and breath left the girl at the sight of the blood speckled clown mask and tattered green lab coat.

"That's not Geoff," Harold coolly observed. The killer displayed his weapon of choice to the teens, than he abruptly launched himself towards Bridgette. The girl's shrill scream ricocheted against the surrounding forest. Courtney screamed too, calling out her roommate's name, while Harold began to back up. Yet while they had the instinct to flee, Duncan lunged to reach his teammate first.

With the killer only a few steps away, Bridgette was convinced she was dead. Her green eyes stayed on the clown as she clumsily stepped back. Her foot slipped on the wet grass underfoot, sending the blonde tumbling onto her bottom. Slender legs flew up into the air just as the killer reached his victim, and he had no way to stop himself from tripping over her. The teen winced as he collided with her, but the opportunity to escape had opened itself he landed face first into the dirt.

In a heartbeat, Bridgette scrambled back to her feet and rushed to meet Duncan half way. He didn't stop for her tough, instead giving her a hard shove towards her awaiting teammates. A sadist grin played on the juvenile's face as he cracked his knuckles, "It's on now, joker. You picked the wrong camp."

"Duncan no!" Courtney implored, sensing a reckless streak in him. She yanked the back of his black t-shirt, forcing him to look at her pleading eyes. Silently she begged him to keep his promise from earlier and not leave her side. His steel eyes softened, and reluctantly he nodded, taking her hand. If she hadn't been there, he would have engaged the killer.

The clown-masked man stood, dusting off the dirt and mud from his lime green coat. He glanced up to see his quarry escaping into the forest, abandoning their missing friend and the map. Cracking his neck from side to side, the hunter casually paced after his prey. Frightened and exhausted, they wouldn't be hard to catch.

**

* * *

**

THE PATH 4:11 AM

Bridgette's terrified screams ricocheted across the sky, reaching the ears of Trent and Gwen. They had almost reached Chris' cabin, running for their own lives. Both teens froze on the spot, listening for the source of the screams.

"Did that come from the cabin?" Gwen wheezed, holding her chest while she gasped.

"How did he get ahead of us?" Trent wondered, also short of breath. They'd been running from the clown killer earlier, but had lost sight of him in their haste. It was hard to tell where the screams were coming from too; the voice seemed to echo from all directions.

"I don't know. Maybe he's run into the other team. We could catch up with them."

"Right, let's hurry. It probably is at the cabin," Trent agreed, taking her pale hand in his. The cabin wasn't much further away and the orange glow of the lights signaled them like a beacon. The pair stepped onto the opened lawn surrounding the cabin, but saw no sign of the other campers.

They investigated the cabin next, quiet as mice, wary of every corner they turned and every shadow surrounding them. The cabin remained in the same shambled state as the Bass team had left it earlier. Swallowing apprehensively, Gwen dared to speak out, "Hello?"

Though her raspy voice was barely above a whisper, it resonated against the walls of the deathly silent room. Not a sign of life stirred in the cabin and Gwen shrugged to her teammate. Trent returned the gesture and motioned towards the kitchen. They glanced over the empty room, and made the rounds to the vacant bedroom. It left only the closed door adjacent to the bedroom, and they both regretted opening it.

"Sick," whispered the Goth, shutting the door immediately after. Trent's completion turned green after only a glimpse of the bloodied mess inside. Instinctually Gwen rubbed his back to comfort him, even though she felt similar revulsion. She'd seen enough cadavers in one night to last her a lifetime. Forcing a smile, he raised his hand up to indicate that he would recover.

"Any doubts now?" the musician inquired, heading back to the exit.

"I'm convinced," she admitted, following him closely out the cabin. On the porch, they decided to try one more sweep of the area for their fellow campers before moving on. They'd barely taken a step on the grass when Trent started at the crunching of something other than leaves. Checking underfoot, he lifted up the dampened and crumpled map that the Bass had discovered earlier. Beside the map was the familiar tan cowboy hat that belonged to Geoff. Gwen thoughtfully picked up the hat, dusting off the dirt and grass while her partner inspected the map.

"It's a map of the island, and the north side is marked," Trent observed.

"What's there?"

"Says 'Boat of Losers' with a question mark. Do you suppose the others figured out a way off the island?"

"Could be. Getting out of Dodge seems like a good plan. We'll be no worst off going that way than standing around here."

Trent agreed, rolling up the map and using it to point the way north. Gently Gwen moved his arm 90 degrees left to true north and smiled knowingly. He chuckled nervously to himself at his own error. Feeling a little more lighthearted and hopeful, the pair set out into the woods towards the dock. If their assumptions were correct, they would run into the rest of the campers there and be able to get off the island.

**

* * *

**

SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREST 4:15 AM

None of the Bass knew how much distance they'd put between themselves and the killer. Despite the obstacle course of trees and earth surrounding them, they were able to move rather smoothly through the forest. Their fear peeked and adrenaline pumping; all that mattered to now was surviving.

Duncan headed the escape, followed closely by Courtney. She didn't have much choice but to keep pace with him though, since he was dragging her by her wrist. Harold and Bridgette weren't far behind, but both teens were visibly struggling to keep up. Unaware of her footing, Bridgette unexpectedly snagged her sandal on a root. The girl yelped aloud, alerting the others as she hit the ground.

Bridgette pushed herself up, drawing her knee up to her chest. Scraps and bruises dotted her leg, but the injury she favored was her ankle. The Bass team gathered around her, immediately questioning her condition.

"Leave me!" Bridgette shockingly ordered her peers.

"Okay," Harold agreed, but Duncan snatched his pajama's arm to stop him.

"Absolutely not," Courtney knelt to face her friend, "We're all getting off this island together."

"No we're not," Bridgette resolved, tears pooling in her eyes, "the others, they're gone. Geoff… oh my God, Geoff."

"Bridgette… we… we're not going to leave you," Courtney wrapped her arms around her now sobbing roommate. She tried her best to act strong, but tears were cascading down her cheeks too.

"I think you should."

"This is no time to play the martyr Bridge," Duncan barked, "Geoff wouldn't want you to quit."

"I know… and, I won't quit," she assured, whipping away her tears, "but I'm just slowing you guys down. So, leave me, I'll hide myself real good until you guys come back with help."

"But Bridgette, you're terrified of the forest," Courtney gently reminded.

"Yeah, I was trying not to think about that," Bridgette tried to laugh, "besides psychotic clown guy… lot scarier."

A branch snapped in the distance, causing the girls to gasp in alarm. The campers looked frantically for any sign of their pursuer, but he was not in sight. The crunching dead leaves signaled that he was nearing them. Courtney's eyes desperately pleaded with her bunkmate but Bridgette silently waved them to go. There was no more time, and Duncan lifted Courtney up, clenching his teeth as he warned, "Don't you dare get caught Bridge."

She bravely smiled, careful to stay quiet with the killer so close. She watched them disappear into the maze of trees and cautiously stood. Listening vigilantly, she attempted to pinpoint the location of their assailant. The crunching became ever closer and her heart raced faster with each step. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the murderer hidden behind the clown mask.

Bridgette's presence went unnoticed, and he continued straight for the path her friends had taken. Her eyes darted from the man to the forest and back again. A million thoughts ran through her mind the further away from her he paced. Feelings of regret filled her as she thought of what a hindrance she'd been all night. She had clumsily slowed them down at every turn and forced the boys to protect her. She even thought she'd inadvertently been the cause of DJ's disappearance. Even now, she was uselessly hiding behind a tree. Revelation dawned on her, and as stupid of an idea as it was, she knew what she needed to do.

"Catch me if you can, asshole," she murmured before darting boldly and noisily behind the murderer. Not daring to look back, Bridgette knew that he'd gotten her message when she heard the motor of his carving knife rev up again.

Her ankle stung viciously with every awkward step she took as she clumsily tried to navigate the green labyrinth. There was no stopping now, and she was oddly relieved when she chanced a look back to see the clown was still pursuing her. It was a fatal mistake to loose sight of her surroundings though and Bridgette turned back just in time to see the tree, but not avoid it.

Dazed and confused, the teen lay in the dirt, gingerly rubbing her forehead. She had enough wits left to remember her stalker and sit up again. Turning on her rear, she saw he was mere feet away from her, ready with his bloody weapon.

Bridgette's hands blindly searched the forest floor until it secured a sizable fallen branch. The clown masked murderer stood over her, raising his buzzing knife ominously above his head. Her only chance was now and she struck the killer's kneecap with all her strength.

"Son of a..." he dropped his knife to hold his throbbing knee. Bridgette sprung to her feet, and darted past her adversary believing the injury would be enough to delay him. It was another mistake on her judgment as he reached around her long ponytail and jerked her down to the ground. Her eyes burnt with tears and she cried out as her back collided with the unforgiving earth.

"That hurt!" the killer breathed, pressing his heavy boot onto her stomach, effectively pinning her down, "What exactly were you thinking?"

"That you took Geoff away from me," she choked, the fight in her draining away, "I had nothing to loose."

"That's pretty gutsy," he forced her up by her shoulder.

Bridgette cringed, standing helpless before her executioner. The clown mask smiled wickedly at her, but her eyes averted into the endless forest. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, and she wondered if she'd given them enough time.

* * *

A/N: Don't kill me! This was probably an intense chapter, I know. Oh and to annoymous - I can't tell you if Owen is dead or not. It's part of the suspense. And on a completely random note - freeze dried space icecream... is strange.


	8. Chapter 8

PART EIGHT

**SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREST 4:36 AM**

Duncan felt like choking someone as he stood in front of the steep rock formation blocking the path. Courtney, Harold and himself had been running blindly through the forest, guided only by his keen sense of direction. Their destination was the dock on the north side of Lake Wawanakwa and finding north was the easy part. It was the dense forest, pitch-black sky and unexpected detours like this mossy cliff that challenged him. He took out his frustration by punching the rock face while Courtney quietly watched, hugging herself against the cold. She considered mentioning the map, but she decided that would only irk him more, knowing that they left it behind at the cabin. The brunette's thoughts drifted to the other thing they'd left behind, Bridgette, but there was almost no choice. Peering through the dense woods, she thought aloud of her bunkmate, "I sure hope Bridgette is okay."

"She's fine," Harold's voice rasped indifferently. His blatantly apathetic tone appalled Courtney, and she narrowed her gaze at the geek suspiciously. He had been getting notably nonchalant for a while now and she couldn't decide if he was a jerk, or if he had another reason. Even when Bridgette had begged them to leave her behind, he never even batted an eye.

Placing her hands firmly on her hips, Courtney decided it was time for some answers, "What's up with you Harold? You're not even slightly worried. Why?"

"I don't know… gut feeling," he answered with the same disinterest. He slouched back against a tree and gazed off into the distance, infuriating the girl further. She didn't get the chance to berate him though, because Duncan had his own little outburst, "Damnit! We'll have to go another way!"

Briskly he brushed past his two teammates, examining the landscape of trees encompassing them. Visibility was still nonexistent, the forest was endlessly dark and all the trees looked the same in the shadow. The lingering fact that the killer was out there somewhere didn't help his disposition either. He looked almost lost mumbling to himself while he pondered their next move.

Wordlessly, Duncan marched forwards into the woods again, this time without holding onto Courtney's hand. Said girl was quick to chase after the brooding teen, not wanting to chance being separated anymore than their team was. Harold sighed heavily and leisurely pushed himself off the tree to bring up the rear.

**

* * *

**

THE NORTH DOCK 4:40 AM

Guided by the map the Bass team had neglected, Gwen and Trent were quickly able to navigate towards the marked dock. The dense forest began to thin as they neared their destination, and at the crest of a hilltop, the duo paused to gaze towards the horizon. With only starlight to guide them, it was still hard to see, but Gwen was sure she saw reflection off the lake. She studied the rippling waters a moment longer and was sure that they'd arrived the north side of the island.

"We're almost there," Gwen smiled, "I even think I see the Boat of Losers."

"Awesome," Trent studied the map, than enthusiastically peered into the horizon, even though he could not see. Gwen smiled widely at the musician, her own relief and enthusiasm shining through. Abruptly Trent drew her into a victorious embrace and the girl's pale cheeks flushed red. She laughed nervously, unsure weather to hug him back or not.

"We might even get there before sunrise," Trent released the hug, realizing that his gusto might have been a little overboard. The subject of time of day was as good a distraction as any, and she questioned, "Sunrise? Have we been at this all night?"

"Yeah," Trent nodded, yawning at the thought of this sleepless night.

"None of that," Gwen playfully waved her finger in front of his nose. They hurried down the hill, picking up the pace with the thought of goal in mind. With any luck, they would get there before or at least at the same time as the Bass.

**

* * *

**

THE FOREST 4:40 AM

 The Bass team continued to plow their way through the forest, Duncan leading at an aggressive pace. He swatted a branch out of his way and the rebound nearly knocked off Harold's head. The geek scowled at the back of the green hair dyed head, absolutely fed up with his fowl attitude and endless marching orders. In fact, he'd had enough of this pointless game of cat and mouse, but so had all of the campers.

Abruptly Duncan stopped and Harold nearly walked straight into him. Another obstacle lay before them, this time it was a straight drop down in the earth. Duncan figured he could have easily climbed, but he was not sure about his pajama-clad teammates. A few meters away was a fallen tree that could potentially be a bridge down, and he thought it was safer to try that first.

"Let's try getting down over there," he suggested, facing his team for the first time after he'd stubbornly marched off. The delinquent froze in place when he saw that only Harold stood with him. His heart stopped, terror welling up within him, but not fearing for himself. The pent up anger inside him exploded as he shortened the gap between himself and the geek. Lifting the scrawny red head up by his orange pajama top, Duncan roared, "Where's Courtney? Where is she?"

"I… I don't know. I thought she was behind me," Harold lost all color from his face as he struggled against his teammate's vice like grip.

"Why weren't you watching?" the teen hauled Harold even closer.

"She's not my responsibility, geez," Harold shouted back. Duncan threw the thin geek to the ground and stomped away while calling out Courtney's name. Harold readjusted his green tinted glasses, his left hand balling up into an angry fist. The missing girl's name boomed throughout the forest canopy as Duncan frantically searched. The red head just smirked to himself with sadistic pleasure, "Go ahead Duncan, let the homicidal maniac know right where you are."

**

* * *

**

ELSEWHERE IN FOREST 4:41 AM

"How could I have lost them?" Courtney criticized herself, turning amidst the trees in confusion. She turned in circles desperately searching for her team, the flashlight's flickering glow trembling hastily with her. Harold was right in front of her the last time she had looked, but now she was alone.

"Dun…" she caught her herself, than whispered to herself, "Stupid Courtney. Scream out loud and lead the killer right to you."

The girl glanced down at her flashlight, realizing the light was a "come get me" beacon too and dimmed it with her hand. It seemed safer to wander blindly in the darkness instead of be an easy target as she attempted to retrace her steps. If she could find some familiar landmark or just run into the guys randomly, it would all be okay.

"When did I even lose them?" she wondered quietly. Unfortunately she knew the answer to that… because she had stopped paying attention. Duncan had been plowing ahead so fast that she and Harold had barely been able to keep up. In addition, paranoia caused her to frequently look back to see if anything was behind them. She'd even gone so far as to walk backwards.

At some point when her back was turned, they must have made a sudden turn. By the time she realized Duncan and Harold weren't ahead of her anymore; she panicked and raced forwards to catch up. In doing so, she ultimately got herself even more lost in the terrifying forest.

"Duncan, you promised not to leave me," Courtney remembered, too frightened to be angry. Her free hand hugged her arm tightly as she shuffled onwards. Relief washed over her as she heard his familiar voice echo her name.

"Duncan!" she answered gladly, her cries ricocheting in the air. They knew she was gone and had come back to look for her. He called her name again and Courtney eagerly followed the sound of his voice, he didn't sound too far away.

Courtney smiled widely as she zealously raced to be rejoined with her teammates. She'd forgotten about her down turned flashlight, and tried to discern the black shapes of the forest from anything human shaped. Her name rung out once more and she responded fervently, "Duncan, I'm here!"

Movement ahead caught the girl's attention as someone stepped out from the wall of trees. Courtney didn't doubt that it was Duncan come to her rescue. Slowing down, she observed that he moved almost casually and seemed a little too tall. Fear washed over her again and she drew the flashlight up to shed light on the figure's identity. Her brown eyes grew wide, realizing she'd walked straight into the waiting arms of the murderer.

She could not scream, but she did have the sense to throw the flashlight at his head. The flashlight bounced off the killer's shoulder as the teen turned tail and fled. She finally was able to scream as she ran, praying that Duncan would find her in time.

Annoyed, the killer picked up the flashlight she'd thrown, than eyeing his prey, gave chase. The girl weaved swiftly through the trees, spinning off trunks with her hands to quickly turn corners and gain momentum. She zigzagged randomly through the forest, hoping to make herself a harder target to catch.

The assailant kept a brisk pace behind her, not bothering to exert himself though. His quarry was fatigued, terrified and bound to slip up soon. Courtney continued to snake around the trees, ducking under a low hanging group of branches. As she rose up, her hair snagged on the limbs and she yelped as it held tight. Her need to escape greater than the pain, Courtney forcibly ripped her brown hair from its entanglement.

The delay gave her a chance to locate the killer, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. A new wave of panic burned within her as she staggered into a run. Her heart throbbed and lungs fought for breath as she continued to push through the trees. Courtney finally broke free of the dense darkness into an open patch of land. To her dismay, various boulders and high mounds of earth blocked her only chance of escape. It must have been part of the same obstruction from earlier. The girl was undeniably trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Ahead there was no way out, beside her a wall of trees and behind her the killer. Frantically she spun around, looking for any sign of escape, the fear almost suffocating.

Suddenly, a hand slapped across her mouth and nose, stifling her startled scream. A hand hooked under her arm and forcibly hauled her backwards. She dug her heels into the ground and her nails clawed desperately at her assailant's skin. It was certainly the end of the line for her as she was dragged into a fracture in the boulders, consumed by the darkness.

That was when Courtney saw the familiar glint of green tinted glasses in the corner of her eye. Harold signaled for her silence, placing a finger to his lips and she nodded that she understood. It seemed clear that Duncan had grabbed her now, and her body loosened as they shimmied down the crevice. At the end lay a small dank cavern lit by the starlight sky shinning down from a gap high in the ceiling.

Duncan finally released the girl and she quickly whirled around to embrace her savior. He absently stroked her hair while she buried her face in his chest. His sights remained vigilant on the opening, hoping that the clown masked man hadn't caught their exit into the cavern.

Gently pushing the brunette towards Harold, Duncan squeezed back through the narrow opening to see where the killer was now. He immediately spotted him lingering at the forest edge, using the flashlight Courtney had discarded to meticulously search for the teens. Duncan cursed under his breath, their foe knew they were near by and could very well find their hiding place. The punk quickly rejoined his peers to report his findings, "He's still out there. He knows we're hiding somewhere nearby."

"So now what?" Courtney hugged his arm tightly. Duncan looked from one companion to the other, his brow furrowed tightly in thought. Again he gently he pried Courtney from his arms and resolved, "Harold, get her to the dock."

"Me?" the red head choked.

"No," Courtney lowly protested.

"Listen there's no way we're all getting out of here, and I've been dying to give Bozo out there the smack down. So, I'll lure him off while you two get out of here."

"No," Courtney repeated, twisting her fingers around his sleeve, "You promised me!"

"I'm sorry Princess, but it's the only way."

Duncan stood tall with his conviction, and Harold just rolled his eyes, "I'll do it."

Dumbfounded, Courtney and Duncan's jaws dropped, unable to believe Harold just volunteered. A doubtful smirk formed on Duncan's lips, but Harold continued, "I have years of experience running away from bullies. Besides, I'd make better bait than you any day."

The scrawny teen started for the exit, but Courtney held him back, "Harold. This is no time to be all chivalrous. It's not in your nature."

"I have to. Duncan is the only one who can keep you safe."

Courtney's grip loosened and Harold quickly slid out of the cavern into the open. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for the killer's back to be turned. When the coast was clear, he scurried into the tree line and ducked behind a tree. Though he could have fled at that moment, he picked up a fallen branch and snapped it in half. The sound immediately alerted the killer to his location and Harold allowed himself to be seen.

As soon as his foe started after him, the nerd screamed like a girl and made tracks into the depth of the forest. Seconds later, the killer raced past the cavern opening, wielding his knife threateningly in the air as he pursued. Cautiously Duncan drew Courtney out of the cave and led her in the opposite direction that their brave distraction had fled.

_

* * *

_

Next time on 12 Little Campers! The sun is dawning on Camp Wawanakwa, but will it really signal the end of this terrible night? Courtney and Duncan race to get to the docks, meeting with an unexpected survivor on the way. Meanwhile Trent and Gwen await at the docks for any of their friends to arrive, but how long will they be able wait? Find out next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**SOMEWHERE IN THE FOREST 5:01 AM**

Lake Wawanakwa began to stir to life as dawn approached. The midnight blue sky faded to a grey blue color, signaling that sunrise was just over the horizon. Despite the promise of a new day, the old rundown camp was filled with despair and devastation. Only a handful of the twelve campers endured through the long and frightful night. Those who survived the masked killer's onslaught could only hope now to see the light of day.

Within the maze of trees, said killer scrupulously hunted for the remaining teenagers. He'd originally been stalking three of them, but the tall and awkward red head separated from the trio and presented himself as an easy target. The stalker gave eager chase to the youth, but had lost the trail in mere minutes. Though it couldn't be seen past his jovial painted mask, the man was quite irritated that the boy managed to elude him.

He grumbled aloud to himself, looking around another tree, still unable to locate his target. The killer could have never guessed that while he hunted, a pair of green tinted eyes was stalking him. High above in the trees, Harold hugged a large tree limb, smiling down as the killer passed him by, "Suckers."

"That's right psycho, I've got your number," he gloated as he sat up straight. Satisfied that he'd dodged his pursuer, Harold leaned comfortably against the base of the tree. His limbs stretched out to ease his stiffness and he yawned silently, his eyes heavy. Before he could fall asleep, he noticed a flickering light in the distance. Scrutinizing the golden glow, he identified it as someone's flashlight scanning the forest.

With dawn near, the bespectacled teen had a much easier time discerning the shapes in the distance. A feminine figure walked atop the same mass of earth that had detoured the Bass team earlier. She pushed her long raven hair out of her face, and immediately Harold recognized her as Heather. Harold's interests peeked on the girl, curious about what the girl was doing alone and why she was so deeply focused.

"What's Heather up to?" he wondered, noting that she was looking in the same direction that Duncan and Courtney had fled. In addition, he saw a map in her fist and the glint of a knife tucked in her belt. Abruptly her form disappeared from sight behind the trees, leaving Harold to ponder her activities.

**

* * *

**

THE NORTH DOCK 5:04 AM

The lakeshore was quite serene in retrospect of the night's horrific events. Tied to the peer, the tiny Boat of Losers rocked gently with lake's waves, soothing its two passengers. Both Gwen and Trent rested on the deck of the craft, passing the time with stories. The Gopher duo was fortunate because for the most part, they had remained unscathed throughout the night. They had only met with the killer once during the night, and managed a hasty retreat to safety. The rest of their peers were not so fortunate, and they had no way to know when or if any one else would arrive to the docks.

"And than what happened?" Gwen inquired, gladly distracted by Trent's voice. She lay on her stomach, her head propped up in her hands as she listened. Her companion laughed before waving exuberantly to emphasize the tale he told, "Well, our teacher is standing in the door way, just livid at the mess. There's paper and chalk and nails and well any thing you can think of on the floor and walls. My two friends are standing on the table with a staple gun in each hand and I'm holding a stool up for a shield. The whole class is sure we're dead."

"So, what did he do to you guys?"

"The man… the man pulls out a Mega Soaker from behind his back and goes all Rambo on us. The whole class scattered, jumping behind chairs and tables and he is laughing like a mad man. We hide behind our friend and let him take the brunt of the spray. Anyway, we all had to stay after to clean up, but you can guess after that, shop class was really… interesting."

"Wow," Gwen chuckled, "I've never had a teacher that… playful."

"Oh, he was fun, but serious about learning too," Trent sits back down on the deck, closely watching his female companion. Her smile slowly faded as she noted that the night sky has lightened another shade.

"So, how long do we wait for them?" Gwen questioned in regards to the campers they suspected were heading this way.

"I'm not sure, sunrise?"

"Sunrise isn't long away."

"Than we wait as long as we have to," he scooted next to Gwen, smiling coyly, "Besides, this means I get to watch the sunrise with you."

Gwen smiled shyly, allowing Trent to put an arm around her shoulder. The pair cuddled closely together, anticipating the steadily approaching sun.

**

* * *

**

THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE FOREST 5:12 AM

With the shadow of night gone, Duncan and Courtney found it much easier to navigate the forest. They had found a gentler incline in the barrier to climb up, until Duncan spotted a clear route cutting through the forest. Weaving through the woods, the two teens were quickly able to reestablish themselves on the path to the dock. Occasionally, the brunette would glance back, expecting to see the killer, or maybe even a fellow camper.

Duncan held Courtney's hand tightly again as he hurried them up the rise of the hill. From the peak, the northern shoreline and lake were in clear view. It was still a kilometer or more away, but Duncan spoke enthusiastically, "Look Princess! I think I see our boat out of here."

The excitement he felt quickly vanished when he saw the vacant stare in his princess's chocolate eyes. She was mentally and physically exhausted, and the grueling night had finally caught up with her. Courtney limply crashed to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands.

"This is all so pointless!" she screamed, her heart aching painfully within her chest. Duncan hesitated to comfort her as she continued to bawl incoherently, "I hate this place! I hate this stupid show! I wish I'd never come here! What's the point? Everyone is gone but me! So what's the point?"

Like a helpless child, Courtney continued to sob and Duncan felt just as helpless too. His heart stung watching his princess and carefully he knelt beside her, slowly moving her hands from her face. She refused to look at him as she strangled on the waterfall of tears pouring down her cheeks. Gently the tough delinquent pulled her into a strong embrace, and she responded by crying mercilessly into his chest.

"You're not useless, because…" Duncan moved back to look at his princess, "because I need you. Not to sound cheesy, but you're the only reason I've got to move forward. If you weren't here, I've had gotten myself killed hours ago."

Rubbing tears from her eyes, Courtney glanced sideways into his steel blue eyes. She coughed once more on her tears and sniffled, "That was really cheesy."

"I know," he grinned teasingly, "I'm glad the camera crew took off…"

"But you meant well," she hushed him, placing a finger over his lips, "Thank you."

"So, that mean you're ready to jump that boat out of here?" Duncan stood, offering his hand.

"Yeah," she nodded a little more confidently accepting his hand.

Duncan stared intensely into her brown eyes, causing her already flushed cheeks to brighten. His touch and manner was so gentle to her and she felt her heart flutter nervously. Courtney started to say his name, not really knowing what she wanted to express when an interloper caught her attention.

They both gasped as they saw Heather stumbling out from behind the cover of trees. She looked like hell, her fair skin and expensive clothing covered in dirt. Her hair was in shambles, twisted all in knots, and her left arm caked in dried blood. Tightly, her hand gripped on the blade tucked in her belt loop, but she had no other possessions on her.

"Heather?" Courtney started, partially in sympathy, but mostly in shock of the fact that she was still alive. The sound of her name alerted her to the other two's presence and she turned her exhausted, puffy red eyes towards them. Instantly, the tears flowed down the girl's fair skin and she raced towards the two Bass team members, "Duncan! Courtney!"

Rejoicing, Heather threw her arms around Duncan, muffling her cries of thanks and relief in his shirt. The distressed damsel's actions left the punk speechless, and the C.I.T incensed. He wasn't sure if he should comfort her or not, especially seeing the jealously flaring in Courtney's eyes.

Shrugging, Duncan gently pushed the distraught teen back, sternly questioning, "What happened to you? Where are Owen and Lindsay?"

"I… I don't know!" Heather wailed again so loudly that she'd surely draw attention.

"Whoa! Whoa," Duncan motioned for her to lower the decibels, "you need to calm down. We were just trying to find out what happened."

"I'm sorry, I've been alone and so scared. I didn't think I'd ever find anyone," she whimpered overdramatically. Her lips quivered and her eyes were filled with sadness as she glanced over at Courtney pouring it on a little thicker. Overwhelming guilt filled up in the brunette's throat for thinking poorly of the distressed teen. Although it could have been bile because of how she was overacting for sympathy.

Taking a breath to sturdy herself, Heather adamantly explained, "Before Lindsay, Owen and I headed for the dock of shame we thought maybe we could find our cell phones, and anything else they took away from us. We tried Chris' cabin first, but the killer was waiting for us there. He got Lindsay and Owen, and there was nothing I could do," she paused a moment to whip the tears away, "I just ran out of there until I ran into Leshawna, but the killer got her too. It was horrible! I was sure I was good as dead!"

"Yet, you escaped," Courtney crossed her arms tightly, watching Heather watch her. Her stare remained leery, especially when the Asian's innocent stare shifted to a glare, "I wonder now if the killer was following me the whole time."

The raven-haired girl frowned unknowingly, turning to Duncan and ready to cry another waterfall. Anticipating the waterworks, the delinquent quickly put an assuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Well don't worry, you're safe now," Duncan guaranteed and Courtney bitterly forced a smile, "Yes, we're glad you're safe now Heather."

"And we're all getting off this rock together."

"You have a plan?" Heather perked up with interest.

* * *

A/N: I am so sad... well not really, I have a chocolate brownie, but anywho, I'm sad because this story is coming near an end. Which means I'll be pulling my hair out to make it perfect. Because all of you who have read and reviewed my story are wonderful. Thanks for all the comments!!!

Well stay tuned everyone for the final chapter (and than a follow up chapter probably) hopefully by Friday.


	10. Chapter 10

PART TEN

**THE PATH TO THE NORTH DOCK 5:41 AM**

The sun finally rose over the eastern horizon, lighting the dismal campgrounds at Lake Wawanakwa. The teenaged trio welcomed the heavenly rays as they continued their trek towards the sanctuary of the docks. Courtney strode briskly ahead of her two peers, her arms tightly crossed together while Heather had permanently attached herself to Duncan. The Métis girl's head stubbornly stared forward, focused solely on the journey's end and an end to this nightmare.

The young punk sighed heavily, looking between his peeved princess and his distressed damsel. Heather looked so helpless clinging to him for security, so unlike her normal confident and bossy self. He couldn't understand why Courtney was acting all jealous, especially since Heather had been through the same hell as them, or worst. There was no way he could turn the needy girl away. Although he was starting to feel a little claustrophobic with Heather latched on to his arm like she was.

Regardless, Courtney continued to storm ahead, only pausing so that they could just barely catch up to her. Her sandaled foot tapped impatiently while waiting for the stragglers. Her brow furrowed, noting that Heather was doing a "bang up" job of delaying them and wasting time. The dock was in arms reach, but with Miss Queen Gopher along it might take another two hour.

It hadn't slipped Courtney's attention either that Heather kept stopping dead in her tracks to look around nervously. It should have seemed like she was just afraid, but Heather looked more annoyed than scared. She'd chew her lip or nail until Duncan nudged her along again, and she'd quickly throw her arms back around his. So entangled in her reflections, Courtney jumped when a warm hand entwined with hers, signaling that the other two had caught up.

"Listen, there's no reason to get all jealous," Duncan assured, but his words insulted her instead. The brunette quickly drew her hand away and insisted, "I am not jealous!"

"Nope, you are," Duncan smugly grinned, "but that's okay."

"I said I'm not jealous!" Courtney maintained, pushing forwards to gain distance from them.

"You are so jealous," Heather joined, leaning forward to better observe copper-skinned girl grow red in the cheeks. Courtney turned fully away from them, her shoulders tightening in anger and embarrassment. It didn't help when a soft chuckle resonated from the group, fueling her burning temper.

"Don't you laugh at me," she warned, whirling around to point out the raven-haired girl. Heather's expression softened at the red-faced girl and she straightened, "I wasn't laughing."

"Wasn't me," Duncan insisted, noticing the blank pale look in Courtney's dark eyes. He slowly turned with Heather to discover an uninvited member to their gathering. Maniacal laughter echoed from the clown-masked psycho as he raised his weapon to strike his next victim.

**

* * *

**

THE NORTH DOCK 5:52 AM

Trent smiled down at the pale girl in his arms as she breathed slowly in slumber. They'd both gotten quite comfortable on the tiny boat's deck, watching the sunrise over the lake. The rippling reflection of blue, orange and red over the vast body of water was like picturesque poetry. He wondered if they could stay like this forever, when a scream echoed from behind them.

"What was that?" the shrill cry startled Gwen and she scurried to stand. Trent stood with her, looking towards the land for any sign of the voice's owner. It only took a few moments before he spotted four figures in the distance. Though he could not identify any of them, it was clear they were on their way to the dock and were fellow campers. However, they were moving about erratically and from the scream, it wasn't hard to guess that they were in trouble.

"I think it's the others," Trent stepped off onto the dock, quickly followed by his female companion, "They sound like they're in danger."

Gwen paused, her mind and body arguing with her next move. Their friends were in need, but she'd felt so safe on the deck with Trent. Now he wanted to go back into the fray, it was brave of him, and she was scared. He obviously saw her concern, but before he could speak, Gwen nodded confidently at him. Together their footsteps resonated down the length of the dock as the raced to aid their fellows.

**

* * *

**

THE PATH TO THE NORTH DOCK 5:58 AM

Courtney shrieked in horror as the electric knife fell upon her companions. There was no telling when the killer had caught up to them, or how long he'd been right behind them. Time seemed to slow down as the buzzing blade hovered about Heather's shoulder, threatening to saw right through her delicate skin.

The blade barely missed her as Duncan instinctively shoved Heather out of they way and deftly fell back to avoid harm too. It was of course a short-lived save as the juvenile watched Heather fall badly onto the ground. She was unable to catch herself and her head cracked loudly into the unforgiving earth. A soft moan escaped her lips as she struggled to stay conscious against the throbbing pain.

If it were possible, the masked clown grinned wider at the sight of his frightened and confused victims. With one already down, it was going to be a piece of cake to take out the other two, or so he assumed. Adrenaline still pumping, Duncan reached for a sizable rock and launched it precisely at the chuckling psychopath. The projectile effectively knocked the electric knife from their opponent's grasp and caused him a great deal of pain.

"Take that, Chuckles!" crowed the teen, picking himself up fully.

"Duncan!" Courtney hurried to his side, keeping the killer and Heather in her line of sight. She took a hold of Duncan's arm, persuading him to escape while they could. He didn't budge though, his expression cold and detached.

"What are you still doing here?" he barked, focusing on his foe.

"What do you mean?" Courtney's eyes flowed with tears.

"I mean get to the boat!" he pushed her roughly away, "Don't wait for me!"

"I can't…" Courtney whispered, afraid her resolve might crumbled right then. While they argued, the killer reached within his coat, removing a jagged blade. Duncan never lost sight of the danger they were in, even though Courtney stubbornly stood her ground. With a quick flick of his own wrist, the juvenile brandished his own switchblade. He growled in his throat, ordering one last time before he confronted the killer, "Go!"

Courtney's stance faltered and she slowly stepped back, eyes fixed on her protector engaging the killer. Both men took a swing at each other with their respective knives and she couldn't tell if either were cut. They turned and stared each other down intently, circled like wolves for another opportunity. Courtney's flight impulse finally forced her to run away while her eyes and heart burned realizing she'd left Duncan at the mercy of a vicious murderer.

Duncan didn't watch her escape, instead focusing on the cut he'd inflicted on the green lab coat's sleeve. Unfortunately, the killer had on protective padding underneath and his attack meant nothing. That was last thing Duncan needed, to know that his enemy was fully guarded under his silly getup, while he remained exposed. His vulnerability was even more evident from the shallow cut bleeding down his right cheek.

"Let's be reasonable about this young man," the killer tempted behind a plastic smile, "lay down your knife, and I'll go easy on you."

"Screw you clown," Duncan growled using the bargaining as an opening to strike. He charged, recklessly ramming his full weight into the man. Both individuals tumbled into the ground, dazed from the impact. Duncan was first to recover his footing, landing a kick to the killer's gut and causing him to drop the knife.

**

* * *

**

ELSEWHERE ON THE PATH 6:06 AM

Courtney staggered down the path, her eyes so blurry with tears that she could scarcely see where she was heading. Her foot tripped over a bump in the road, sending the sobbing teen face first into the dirt. Winded from the fall and exhausted from running, Courtney struggled to catch her breath. Coughing violently between tears and pain, she curled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on the earth. She resolved not to move from that spot, hugging herself and clawing her arms with her nails.

"Courtney!" a familiar voice snapped her out of her depression.

A pair of footsteps crunched closer to her, followed by a male voice calling out to her. She couldn't find the will to look at them, even when she saw familiar black boots skid to a halt beside her. Gently strong hands helped her to sit up and Gwen knelt in front of her, looking unnaturally sympathetic. The goth's dark eyes held a dozen concerns and questions for the girl, but she was unable to answer them. When she tried to breath to speak, she just ended up coughing hoarsely instead.

"Are you okay?" Gwen inquired, followed by Trent's question, "What happened?"

"Duncan," Courtney wheezed and coughed violently again.

The Gopher pair looked at each other perplexed, attempting quietly to decipher what she meant. There expressions became quite suspicious as they observed the girl's state and they even wondered if Duncan was the cause of this. Courtney must have sensed their confusion and doubts, quickly waving her hands between them for attention. Struggling to be clear she warned again, "Duncan! Help him! Please!"

**

* * *

**

THE PATH 6:09 AM

Flesh and bone crushed against one another repeatedly, the sickening crunch echoing in the air. Duncan raised his fist high, descending once again on the rubber mask of the murdering psychopath. All of his hate, anger and frustration made physical with each blow. The clown killer lay helpless beneath the teen that squatted on top of his chest to pin him. Almost pleadingly, the man held his glove hands up to defend his face from the violent assault and in surrender. His silent pleas were ignored, and Duncan continued to strike, unable to find satisfaction to his sadistic rage.

Finally, the killer's hands fell motionless at his sides and the teen hesitated to inflict another blow. He carefully watched the man breath slowly behind the grinning mask, wondering if he had really knocked him unconscious. Endless seconds passed before Duncan finally sat up straight, dropping his bruised and bloodied fist to his sides. The sun burned on his face, revealing the bruise to his left eye and the bloody cut to his jaw.

Duncan was unable to find serenity under the sun as the rays irritably shimmered off a piece of metal. The glint drew him to the jagged knife the killer had dropped and without a second thought, Duncan greedily snatched it up. The delinquent drew the knife up, fully intending to pay back the murdering bastard for his crimes. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, no one would hold him accountable. He would have plunged the knife deep into the man's chest if a soft groan had not distracted him.

Just a few meters away, Heather was struggling to awaken from her daze, idly rubbing the back of her head. In the heat and passion of the fight, Duncan had forgotten all about the Asian, but she was just a minor interruption. He raised the blade again, preparing himself physically and mentally for the task at hand, but didn't strike. Another moan escaped Heather's lips as she struggled to push herself up, becoming more aware every second.

"Damnit," Duncan cursed as he stood, chucking the jagged knife into the distant vegetation. He moved quickly to Heather's side, gently saying her name as he aided her in standing.

"What?" was all she was able to utter as she met Duncan's cool blue eyes. Gently but firmly, he ushered her away, explaining, "We've got to go now."

Too dazed to argue she nodded weakly as the passed the unconscious masked killer by. Her eyes gradually fixed on the supine form before all awareness came screaming back to her. Heather gasped in horror when her brain registered what was in front of her, "What did you do?"

"I punched his lights out, thought about killing him," Duncan admitted, focusing on the path ahead. She softly answered, "Oh," as she intently watched the murderer's unconscious form. Her fingers twisted nervously through her hair and her feet stubbornly would not walk straight. Duncan would have said something about her picking up the pace if she hadn't spun herself free of his assistance. He was puzzled shortly until she claimed obstinately, "I can walk by myself."

"Whatever, than lets hurry."

The delinquent snatched her wrist, thinking nothing more about her finicky behavior. The pair quickly ran down the path to the docks, Heather glancing once more over her shoulder. Her dark eyes focused grimly at the back of Duncan's shaven head, her fingers casually stroking the blade in her belt loop.

Ascending the peek of a low hill, Duncan paused, allowing Heather to stand by his side. Just a short distance away they could see Gwen, Trent and Courtney racing to greet them. The brunette's expression brightened at their appearance on the hill and she waved eagerly towards the duo. Her relief was apparent and Duncan was relieved too, knowing she was safe and had found friends.

He barely took a step when he noticed that Heather remained frozen in place, shaking like a leaf. Her fist tightly clenched at her side and her face lay concealed under long layers of black hair. Hesitating because of her awful moodiness, Duncan warily approached her, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she snapped her head up, a huge smile on her lips, "I'm just so relieved… that's all."

Utterly baffled by her mood swings, Duncan accepted her answer and turned back to greet the closely approaching group. Smiling brightly, she followed closely behind him this time as he casually strode down the grassy path. Unseen by all, Heather's lips turn up in a scowl, her beautiful face filled with venom. Her delicate fingers brushed against her weapon and she slowly drew it from her belt.

With only a few steps left, Heather raised the blade above her head and pointed at Duncan's backside. The approaching trio instantly notices the flickering silver blade and they all froze at the sight. Courtney paled, barely able to warn her teammate of Heather's deviousness, "Duncan!"

"I will not lose this challenge!" the raven-haired girl screeched, rushing the teen and swinging wildly. The punk turned to see her, the knife and the crazed look in her eyes. The blade swiftly tore through black cloth and cut across Duncan's belly as he echoed her words, "Challenge?"

"Challenge?" Gwen repeated, only momentarily stunned by Heather's treacherous maneuver, "I knew it!"

Courtney screamed again, at her teammate's side in a heartbeat.

"I worked too hard for this!" Heather raved, clenching the blood tainted knife tightly. Her dark eyes focused intently on her victim, watching him hunch over in pain from the gash she'd inflicted. Breathing erratically, the reality of what she had committed sunk in and she eyed the blade in terror. Eyes filled with hate and disbelief stare coldly at her, suffocating her. Swallowing hard, the Asian lets the knife slip from her grasp, horrified with herself.

If she were sorry, she wouldn't get a chance to say so as she felt herself tackled to the ground. Courtney had come up beside her in her daze and was now swinging, pulling and clawing at the treacherous woman. Heather could barely throw her hands up to defend herself as both girls screamed and struggled.

Trent and Gwen absently helped Duncan sit up, their eyes fixed on the catfight in awe.

Duncan winced in pain, looking down at his blood soaked shirt and the wound. It was not deep at all it just stung like hell. Clutching his stomach, Duncan watched the rumble with interest, grinning as Courtney kneed Heather in the gut, "I'm going to marry that girl one day."

"This is so unfair," Gwen complained, clenching her own fist, "I've wanted to kick her ass since the day one."

The goth stood eagerly, cracking her knuckles with the desire to get in on the fight. The two girls let out shrill screams again as they pulled at each other's hair, pushed and kicked at each other. Gwen's heavy boots barely took one step towards the fray when the crackle of a loudspeaker cut through the air.

"ATTENTION CAMPERS!" Chris's familiar voice echoed, "The challenge is over. All twelve Bass and Gophers report to the Mess Hall. We've got breakfast… and Band-Aids if you need 'em."

"Sweet Marie!" Owen's jovial voice cut in over the speaker, "Breakfast!"

"Over?" Heather shrieked, sitting bolt upright, "It' can't be over yet!"

Gwen too seemed disappointed at the crackling announcement as it repeated the challenge was over. Distracted from the fight, Courtney decided to get one more hit in and planted a square punch across Heather's jaw. Instantly the raven-haired girl fell to the ground, screaming and holding her now broken jaw. The Métis stood proudly, walking straight over to Duncan and falling at his side. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and cried happily that it was over.

* * *

TGIF! Well that's the final chapter (sort of)... there will have the be an epilogue where Chris explains to everyone what happened. It was all part of one chapter... but than it got way too long. But rest assured... no one is dead... well maybe Chris after the campers are done with him. Hate it? Love it? Don't care.


	11. Chapter 11 The Epilogue

PART ELEVEN (The Epilogue)

**THE MESS HALL 7:00 AM**

The morning was bright and peaceful at the tiny campgrounds, nearly erasing all signs of the turbulent night before. Boisterous commotion echoed from within the walls of the Mess Hall where the twelve campers were requested to meet. Surprisingly, a delectable buffet of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage and toast (that most doubted Chef had any hand in preparing) awaited them.

Most of the teens were greedily enjoying the "real" breakfast after the heart-stopping six-hour ordeal they'd endured. Owen's tray was of course, piled the highest, but each teen was equally as ravenous in eating. Beyond an array of bruises, cuts and traumatized minds, all the campers were alive, in one piece and in relatively good spirits.

Between the two tables, in a red directors chair sat Chris Maclean, who was equally high-spirited this morning. He was currently engaged in examining the footage of the night's events on a silver laptop. The computer rested gingerly on his left leg, which in turn was propped up by a bench. A large ice bag rested on his knee indicating an injury that most of the campers were not privy too. More glaringly was the large bruise shinning on his right eye that graciously did not diminish his good looks.

"Congratulations teams," he announced over the din. A lone cameraman zoomed in on Chris's face as he spoke, but the egotistical host greeted the camera with a hard scowl. Knowingly the cameraman backed away the focus from his face to the entire dinning hall. Satisfied, Chris continued to the assembly of teens, "I have to say you were all really awesome in this challenge. I mean, talk about drama and raw human emotion! You were all really good sports."

The group grumbled lowly at the compliment, especially Bridgette who glanced down at her scraps and bruises. Even Lindsay and DJ tenderly rubbed the respective lumps on their heads, slightly chagrined about sportsmanship. However, their complaints were cut short when the door swung open, and Heather entered. Even though she was cleaned up, she still looked terrible with the bandages wrapped around the length of her skull. She tenderly felt her broken jaw, afraid her teeth may still fall from that punch Courtney had delivered.

The raven hair teen hesitated at the door when she realized her peers were watching her with cold, disapproving stares. Even Lindsay, who considered Heather her best friend, didn't look pleased to see her. A booming echo interrupted the silence as Trent, Gwen, Leshawna and Owen rose up with their trays and defected to the Bass table. A second later, Lindsay saw she was alone and quickly grabbed her plate to join her team. Fortunately, the Bass gladly made room for their peers, to which Heather rolled her eyes and plopped down alone at the Gopher table. She didn't voice a complaint or concern though since it honestly hurt too much even to scowl.

"Harsh," Chris chuckled, observing Chef entering the hall. He tried to peer around the large man to see if any other stranglers would enter, specifically Courtney and Duncan. Chef knew the question and shook his head gravely, "I don't think they feel like eating right now."

"Eh," Chris shrugged, "Can't blame 'em. So, while I'm sure you're all eager to find out who won this challenge… I thought we'd recap some of the elimination highlights first."

"Wait… this was a challenge?" Lindsay piped in, her blue eyes reflecting her confusion. Everyone was dumbfounded that, even though she was eliminated early on, she still hadn't realized it was a challenge. Chris just looked annoyed with the blonde as he reiterated, "Yes Lindsay, this was a challenge. We were originally planning a game of extreme tag, but that seemed boring, and a little birdie gave me a better idea."

"Tag?" Gwen interrupted, raising an eyebrow, "You threw us blindly into a challenge with no goal and no direction… and it was a game of tag? That doesn't even make any sense, who thinks of this shit? Tag has rules and a safe zone and no one dies. Where was the safe zone?"

"The north dock," their host explained with a frown, "I don't even know why you're complaining, you and Trent made it."

"Oh," the goth smiled, remembering that she and Trent had discovered the "safe zone" and made it there unharmed before anyone else. The duo had a relatively uneventful experience throughout the challenge, to which they should both be grateful. Likewise that meant that Gopher team was the only one to achieve the goal and surprisingly Lindsay picked up that, "So, that's means we won!"

"Lindsay!" Chris pointed at the bubbly teen when she stood up triumphantly, "I'm not there yet, sit down."

"But I wanna know what we won," she pouted, propping her head in her hands. Harold snorted towards the Gopher's, gloating confidently, "I knew it was a challenge before any of you did."

"Is that so?" Bridgette doubted.

"And y'all couldn't have filled any of us in… because… why?" DJ frowned too, being the first player to be eliminated. The entire table focused on the paling red head and he more humbly admitted, "Okay I didn't know right away. Remember how I said you could make fake blood with strawberry Quik? Well it was red syrup on Bunny's fur, not blood, but it was really late in the game when I figured it out."

In reality, Harold chose not to inform his teammates of the challenge. Mostly because of Duncan, who he thought could use a little scare put into him. But that was on a need to know basis, and Harold was the only one who needed to know. Geoff pondered the teen's words, reaching to scratch under his hat when he remembered, "Bunny?"

Swiftly removing the tan cowboy hat from his head, he revealed said fluffy grey fuzz ball resting in a nest of blonde hair. Gently he scoped the tiny rabbit up and gently passed it to the awaiting arms of his teammate DJ.

"Bunny!" DJ cried in joy as he began to cuddle the soft rabbit to his cheek, "I thought he was gone for good."

"Nope, we kept him safe for you dude," Geoff exuberantly raised two thumbs up.

"Thanks man," the gentle giant sniveled as he snuggled his beloved pet.

"That's so cute," Chris sneered, "Are you guys going to let me do this or not?"

"Sorry," a few of the campers apologized.

"Go ahead Chris, reveal all," Trent encouraged, gesturing towards the host.

"Yeah, explain how you pulled this all off." Gwen added waving her fork stabbed sausage, "You convinced all of us that you and Chef were dead. You couldn't have done this alone."

"I didn't. Heather was in on it too," Chris chuckled indicating the Asian teen attempting to hide from any more attention. Harsh glares focused on her again and she mumbled through her injury, "Oh get over it people."

"And my associate who happens to be an outstanding stage technician, costume and makeup artist, martial arts expert and part time self defense instructor."

"That's a hell of a resume," DJ noted dipping a napkin in water to clean off Bunny. Chris happily indicated the kitchen doors, "Everyone, this is Tony!"

The kitchen doors burst open, startling the unsuspecting teens as the masked killer leapt in holding a roaring weed-wacker above his head. Expectedly all the campers, but Heather, screamed at the sight of their nemesis's violent entrance. Harold dove under the table in a heartbeat while Geoff and DJ scrambled away, hugging each other behind the Gopher table. Bridgette seeing that she'd been abandoned for the second time, ignored her jolting fear and crossed her arms in frustration. Lindsay attempted to shield herself behind her arms while Trent fell backwards off the bench, knocking his head against the floor. Owen began to choke on his mouthful of food and Gwen repeatedly slapped the rotund teen on the back. Leshawna sighed, seeing Chris doubled over laughing and lazily propped her head in her hands.

Effectively scaring the campers one last time, the masked assailant lowered his weapon and lifted the mask from his face. A sigh of relief filled the room when Tony revealed himself to be a rather jolly looking balding man with glasses. He really did look like a self defense instructor by the protective headgear he wore. Regardless of safety precautions, the tiny man sported a number of injuries on his face, and a bloodied lip.

"Tony here helped stage many of the 'incidences' you campers experienced last night," the host explained as his colleague moved to stand beside him, "Obviously, he played the part of the killer, costarring myself and Chef when necessary. Chef's main responsibility was to help coordinate us and monitor you guys."

"So all of you were 'the killer'," Gwen reminisced, "That's why we couldn't find your body, because you were out there terrorizing us. That's so… proactive of you Chris."

"I'm still confused," the blonde Gopher expressed again.

"Shocker," Chris replied sarcastically, "Anyway! I got Tony involved because I wanted to make this challenge really extreme and knew he could take it there. Our plan got a little too elaborate though and we realized we needed to have at least one camper in on the challenge. It had to be someone devious enough to play the part, be credible to you guys, and not give the challenge away. That of course was Heather. She was all too happy to help move along this whole "murder mystery," plus, I promised her invincibility if she helped."

The room instantly filled with moans and complaints at the news of Heather being protected from being voted off again. Smugly she stuck her nose in the air, crossing her arms and legs, but mercifully remained mute. Once more Lindsay perked up to share her thoughts with the whole group, "If Heather has invincibility, than that means we won?"

"Yeah… no," Chris frowned again, holding a remote up in his fist. The blonde sunk into her seat again to poke at her food, complaining softly, "But I wanna know what we win."

"Not until I embarrass everyone by showing off how you were caught. This is to help you guys decide who walks the dock of shame later tonight. The winning 'team' is decided by who had the most members left at the end of the game. But first…"

Turning in his seat, Chris pointed towards the hearth where Chef had just finished pushing a large projector screen. He switched off the overhead lights while Chris lightly tapped the touchpad on the laptop. A still image appeared on the screen of DJ, Bridgette and Geoff outside the bathhouse in green tinted night vision.

All heads turned to the screen as Gwen bemoaned, "Terrific, a slideshow."

"Hush," Chris warned, not wanting to be interrupted again, "Showing all the footage would take too long. Anyway, here we have our first victim, DJ. The Bass broke every rule in the book by separating the minute they got here. There's three stalls in there guys, you could have all stayed together."

"He's right," blurted Geoff, "We could have all gone inside!"

The other two Bass team members glared at Geoff's revelation while Chris pressed on in his explanation. Another snapshot flashed across the screen of the Clown Killer lingering behind DJ as he waited alone. In sequence, the next frame showed the masked clown riding him like a bucking bronco and than by him bopping DJ over the head with a frying pan. A few giggles filled the room at the absurdity of the brick-house being knocked out in such a slapstick fashion. The killer than proceeded to splatter fake blood from the canister he carried over the ground, accidentally splashing Bunny in the process. The mishap with the furry pet worked out quite nicely in retrospect after DJ was dragged off into the underbrush.

The next frame revealed Heather, Lindsay and Owen arriving at Chris's cabin, to which their host became a bit more somber in describing, "Yeah, we almost lost it here. We kind of let Heather do her own thing and could have never guessed she was going to bring you guys to the cabin. Chef was staked out there and he was not ready for anyone to get there that early in the game."

"Chef had no idea that they were even in the cabin until he came out to get a snack from the kitchen and saw Owen," the frame changed to a shot of Owen's oblivious face from in the pantry while Chef looked utterly horrified from the outside, "Chef turned off the lights and shut him into the pantry. It was hilarious because he couldn't get out! Chef had to signal Heather to take out Lindsay somehow while he got in costume. She threw a blanket over her head and knocked her out with a vase."

The host began to laugh while the blonde rubbed her head, scowling, "Ow. That really hurt by the way."

"Oh yeah, Heather, you owe me for that vase," the host added to the lone girl.

"And Owen," Chris continued eyeing the jovial boy, "Dude you passed out after seeing the killer. Pretty lame man."

"I was trying to protect you Lindsay," Heather insisted against the annoyed stare of her alliance member. Seeing her obvious doubt, she explained, "I was planning to keep you two safe from elimination in the cabin. Honestly, I no idea Chef was there and maybe if someone had told me…"

Heather attempted to shift the blame off her to Chris, but he easily ignored her and flipped the image. The image revealed Leshawna in night vision wandering off into the woods along. He explained how they'd reorganized after almost mishap and gotten Heather in on the coordination. She agreed to help take out Leshawna and lure her away from the others. Although for Heather this task wasn't in her best interest, since her teammates were quickly dropping like flies from the challenge.

"Oh, I see how it is," Leshawna snapped, shifting her head from side to side, "backstabbing little…"

"I was just playing the game!" Heather shot back, holding her jaw in pain from yelling.

"Ladies!" Chris refereed, "So after Leshawna backed right into the killer, Leshawna tried to make a run for it and fell right over Heather. Too bad Heather screamed when it happened."

"It hurt!" The Asian defended, remembering what happened next, "You'd scream too if a 500 pound whale fell on you."

"What'd y'all call me?" Leshawna shot up from her seat fist raised. Trent and Gwen each hooked one of Leshawna's arms to hold her back while Heather childishly made faces. The outspoken woman decided that Courtney hadn't punched Heather hard enough since she retained the ability to open her annoying mouth. The slide show snapped again to show Heather and Leshawna facing off after she'd tripped onto of the slender girl. Any element of surprise was lost in that moment and the killer had to calmly explain to the teen that they were in a challenge.

"Leshawna reacted pretty well to the news it was a challenge and was a good sport about staying quiet while Trent and Gwen came looking for her." Chris complimented than lifted up the blooded severed arm that the two Gophers had believed belonged to their teammate. Upon closer inspection, the appendage was clearly a badly painted prop.

"Yeah, we were really lucky none of you guys checked any of the bodies. If any of you guys had, you would have seen that they were all fakes."

"Lesson learned," Geoff agreed, "Check the body."

"And don't believe Heather," Gwen grinned. A close-up of Gwen and Trent's horrified faces when they confronted the killer for the first time blinked onto the screen next. Trent was quick to remind their host, "We didn't get caught by killer."

"I know," Chris snickered, "I just love your faces there."

Both the teens groaned at his amusement as he went to the next shot of Geoff running into the forest after Bunny. Chris laughed even harder when he revealed that Geoff actually asked the killer if he'd seen, "a little furry dude hopping around." The party boy just shrugged, unfazed by the next slide of him being karate flipped to the ground.

The next frame showed Bridgette running through the forest and Chris briefly explained, "And than we caught Bridgette."

"Hold on a second," Bridgette protested as the image quickly changed to Courtney's terrified flight through the forest. Everyone watched her in anticipation as she stood tall and pointed to Chris, "I think it would be unfair to everyone to skip this."

"Um… yeah, I'm just trying to get through this," the host claimed slightly nervous, but Leshawna stood next, hands firmly on her hip, "No, what Chris is really trying to say is, he doesn't want anyone to see how Bridgette kicked his ass. His bum knee and black eye are courtesy of our girl here, and let me tell you, it was pretty awesome girlfriend. "

Chris began to look annoyed and impatient as the teens continued gloating on Bridgette's behalf. Anyone who had been eliminated prior was able to witness the rest of the nights events unfold and Leshawna gladly narrated, "That was Chris behind the mask y'all and just when he thought he had her… she kicked him where the sun don't shine. Than when he was all bent over in pain she kneed him in the face until man cried uncle."

Amused looks watched Chris who was still attempting to remain cool and unscathed, "I had no idea she was going to fight back like that. Otherwise I would have sent Chef chasing after her."

"Bridgette's a tough cookie," Geoff beamed, putting an arm around her while she shyly grinned to herself.

"Oh, oh," Leshawna mirthfully pleaded, "as long as we're on ass kickin', let's watch my favorite scene. The one where Courtney kicked Heather's ass. Just a shame that I wasn't able to help."

"I know," Gwen joined, "I so wanted to get in on that fight."

The two girls maliciously glared at Heather who answered with an equally hateful look. Granting their request, Chris flipped through various slides until he reached said catfight between Courtney and Heather. Mortified, Heather sunk down into her seat, knowing she'd never hear the end of it. Playful chatter filled the room again and Chris cleared his throat to gain their drifting attention, "Well, since the only clips left are of Heather's not-so-brilliant tactics, and I don't think you guys can castrate her anymore than you already have… I guess this is as good of a time as any to tell you guys the winner."

He hesitated for a moment to soak up the anticipation in the room. Heather looked quite confident again, while Lindsay looked like the wait was going to killer her. Smiling deviously, Chris motioned towards the Bass table, "The Killer Bass!"

"What?" Heather shot up from her seat enraged, crying over the din of cheers. She winced a little from her injury, "The Bass could not have won. I did everything I was supposed to do! You said the team with the most players left was the winner and we had three!"

"You don't counter Heather."

"Fine, two and they never got caught. Besides, I technically caught Duncan so there was only one 'little fishy' left. I was allowed to do whatever it took and did what it took. One against two, we win!"

"Actually," their host drew out the last syllable, "There were three."

"Three?"

"Yep, Harold," Chris glanced over at the awkward geek a little embarrassed to admit, "We couldn't find him."

"What do you mean you couldn't find him?"

"Yeah, he's a quick little guy. We lost him like five minutes into the chase. Chef couldn't even find him with the cameras."

"I have the mad skills like that," Harold wheezed as his grateful teammate gave him a round of high fives. Even the Gophers were pleased and congratulated them on the win, simply to spite Heather.

"And," Chris continued, "You blew your cover."

"When?" she challenged him.

"Yeah, let me think… how did it go?" Chris rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"When the crazy white girl screamed 'she wouldn't loose'? Or went all psycho with a knife?" Leshawna offered. Chris didn't smile at Leshawna's snide help though, clicking forwards to a still shot of Heather swinging the knife at Duncan.

"You really blew it this time Heather, and you forfeited the challenge when you pulled that stunt. The insurance company is going to be all over my ass."

The raven-haired girl paled a little before slumping back onto the bench. In a much calmer voice, she looked to her host with pleading eyes, "Wait, that doesn't mean?"

"That our little invincibility deal is off? You'll just have to go to the bonfire ceremony tonight to find out, won't ya?" Chris cunningly smiled at the teen while her peers frowned. She knew there was no saving herself if she had no invincibility, her vengeful teammates would be sure of it. Not even Lindsay would stand up for her this time and even if she did, it wouldn't be enough to protect her anyway. Heather was certain this was her last night on Total Drama Island.

While the campers plotted Heather's end, Bridgette quietly stood, taking another tray at the buffet line. DJ noted an unusual choice of seconds, recalling her claims of being a vegetarian, "I thought you didn't eat sausage."

"I don't. I thought I'd go take some food the Duncan and Courtney. See how they're doing."

"Lemme help ya then," DJ offered, standing along with Geoff to check on their fellow team members.

**

* * *

**

THE INFIRMARY - 7:42 AM

Nine campers proceeded towards the infirmary tent carrying well wishes and food for their friends. Bridgette and DJ lead the procession, both holding a tray with each type of breakfast food, since they weren't sure what to choose. Heather was the only one not making an appearance, well aware that the infirmary was the last place she was welcome.

It didn't take long before the group arrived at the off green tent.

Bridgette and DJ lifted the flap of the tent first, DJ announcing their presence, "Hey guys. Though you might be…"

"Oh," Bridgette gasped as the others gathered around behind her. The teens curiously peeked within, witnessing what had startled Bridgette. A mix of shocked and delighted whispers erupted amidst the teens, to which Bridgette quickly motioned for their silence.

At the back of the tent, on a single cot lay Duncan and Courtney snuggled up to each other fast asleep. The night had obviously taken its toll on them and they looked awkwardly comfortably curled up together. Leshawna began to usher the campers away, deciding that there was no reason to linger about ogling. Besides, they could all use some rest after the challenge. Gone as quickly as they came, neither teen knew anyone had come to see them. It did not matter though as Duncan pulled Courtney a little closer in deep slumber.

* * *

**A/N:** That's the end. This "epilogue" got longer and longer as I went… really is more like Chapter 11, than epilogue. I mean, seriously, the last scene is an epilogue. I hope I did a good enough job of wrapping this up, explaining all the loose ends and making light of the whole thing. A lot of this was just scenes edited out of the original chapters anyway.

I went back and forth so many times about revealing the challenge earlier on, but it never felt right… it took away the "drama". I even went so far to plan out an ending where it really was real and everyone died. Not very TDI-ish though.

And the two questions I predict will be asked - Will Heather be voted off? What did they win? It doesn't matter. This is an AU type story and Heather's fate in this will not affect anything else I write. And I never thought of a prize… I tried, but nothing came to mind. This story is over 20,000 words long and my brain is tired. Hope you enjoyed the ride.


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